


Realization

by Nerwen, XxIrisxX



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cynical Thorin, Deceit, Dom/sub Play, Double Penetration, Drama & Romance, Forced Relationship, Graphic Non-Con, Hate transformed to love, Heartbreak, Initial Cold Thranduil, Jealousy, Lies, M/M, Multi, Overprotectiveness, Political conspiracy, Slow Build, Smut, Thorin Is an Idiot, attempted humiliation, eventual development of relationship, from riches to rags, reference to Dragon Sickness, turning of tables
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-03-23 15:31:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 118,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3773482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerwen/pseuds/Nerwen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxIrisxX/pseuds/XxIrisxX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After suffering from Smaug's wrath, Thorin flees to Mirkwood and stumbles upon the one elf he had least hoped to meet. Under Thranduil's care, he not only regains his health but also a new insight of another dimension to the Elvenking. He gives away his heart but under circumstances, Thranduil has no choice but to refuse him. Heartbroken, Thorin resolves to reclaim his home and his love by any means necessary. When the tables are turned and Thranduil pleads for his aid, Thorin’s obsession rekindles though it brings him little peace. His obsession starts to wane under his love and slowly, Thranduil begins to realize the new found emotions he harbours for the dwarf king. But not all takes so kindly to Thorin freely showering his aid. They reckon sickness dawning upon their king and plan to overthrow him by manipulating his nephews. Plots are weaved, lies are thickened and darkness takes a hold of Erebor, greatly reshaping the fate of all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: We certainly don't own The Hobbit and its characters and we make no profit off our fics. We merely write for our enjoyment.
> 
> AN: The exceedingly talented _Nerwen_ and I once again have collaborated and have brought to you our latest fic. I should mention that the character Aldewin is purely her creation and will come later into the story, as it progresses as will Gelmir and Allannia. 
> 
> _Warning: This fic contains heartbreak, obsession, attempted humiliation, somewhat graphic scenes of rape/non-con, double penetration...please read ahead only after thoroughly reading the tags and warning._

Thorin’s hands fell limply by his side when he knelt on the ground. His knees practically released all forms of responsibility of supporting his weight and he slumped, looking ahead with nothing but blankness in his eyes at the bewildering woods ahead of him.

Erebor burned. His _home_ burned. His people screamed helplessly as they tried getting away from the wrath of the damned dragon who mercilessly breathed fire on all of them. Those who got left behind suffered a horrible end, those who survived and got to hear the painful wails of their families and friends would suffer a more brutal one. And there was _nothing_ that Thorin could do.

He had failed. He had escaped like a coward. Where he should’ve stayed back and fought, he ducked and ran; where he should’ve been a king, he became a coward.

And at what cost? His line had ended the moment his nephews hopelessly charged the scaled beast. He had no friends, no family, no subject, no palace, no _home._ He was now nothing more than an exile...and a coward at best.

 

* * *

 

 

Thranduil stood right outside the Mirkwood border looking northeast toward the lonely mountain, he remembered clearly the black smoke and flame rising to the sky, the echoing screams of the fallen…and a desperate plea for help he had no choice but to deny. His mind drifted to that day from time to time and he found himself curious about the fate of those who managed to survive.

Need was the reason he and his soldiers rode to them…he wanted to help, he wouldn’t have come otherwise, but upon the realization that it was dragon that had descended upon Erebor that was burning everything in its path and desolating the once thriving society…It was Smaug and there was really nothing Thranduil could do, he wouldn’t' send his people to their deaths, allow Smaug to feast upon Elvin flesh…he simply couldn't allow that so he turned away and left them to their fate.

However he found himself curious about what type of fate they would have, their home destroyed and their people scattered to the winds. He had wandered his woods silently thinking about the repercussions of Smaug and that of his own actions until he had reached the border, luck would have him facing that dreary mountain as he stopped to look upon it…a flash of guilt overcame his subconscious although it was gone as quickly as it had came.

Thranduil sighed as he turned on his heel intending to banish that day from his mind but his Elvin ears caught something, a sound of the earth giving way beneath the weight of a body. He looked for the source of the sound seeing a dwarf kneeling in the distance.

Thorin frowned slightly, barely reacting at all to what he had thought of an enquiring sound. However, as soon as he had had the vague idea of someone standing nearby, he discarded it immediately after.

He was alone, he reminded himself bitterly. There was no one, he told himself. That it was only a trick played upon his weary mind.

However, he was proven soon enough of not being delirious when the voice spoke again. An involuntary gasp escaped Thorin. That voice...he recognized.

His mouth pressed to a thin line, forging into a snarl and his eyes flashed with a deadly anger as he sharply turned facing the other.

Oh, he recognized that voice well enough. How could he not remember the same voice that had showered him with promises and kept itself silent when his people begged for fulfilment of said promises?

“Has His Majesty come to offer his sympathies?” He spat, unable to contain the rage bubbling inside his heart. His sneer increased all the more as the offending face now fully came to view and despite his weary state, Thorin leapt on his feet and lashed out.

 “Or is it merely to see if he can steal the wealth which resides within Erebor’s walls? But it is futile,” he spoke, his voice wavering under the immense grief as flashes of scream, smoke and fire ran in his mind. “Erebor is in ashes. You should know. You have seen and have turned away.”

Thranduil wanted to turn away from this dwarf the moment he lashed out, to leave him alone to his hatred and anger, he wasn't even sure why he approached him at all. For a moment he did feel sympathy for this grief stricken dwarf although his gut wrenched when his sympathy was rebuked by none other than Thorin Oakensheild. The anger in the others voice unmasked and violent, although he could not deny Thorin’s words.

"I have no desire for that wealth in the mountain. Greed is not my motivation in life." Thranduil said believing for a time that greed was the only driving force behind dwarfs, delving so far into the earth one would think they would hallow out the beloved Arda.

He studied Thorin for a moment, dirt and sweat clung to his body, he seemed fragile and almost delirious in his fragile state and although he was not one for offering pity he could at least offer some help to this once proud Prince of Erebor. "While I'm sure you would not accept my sympathy would you accept my help? I can offer you shelter in my forest, something to eat, drink, and them be on your way…wherever that may be." Thranduil said simply.

“I would rather march to my damnation than to accept your help!” Thorin shouted out, having a feral look in his eyes. “You have no honour and day by day you prove how sick you are in mentality! First you turn away and NOW you extend a hand?”

His heart wrenched with pure anguish as once more the horrors flashed before his eyes. He remembered well enough the relief they all had felt when they saw an army of elves, headed none other by Thranduil. He remembered how desperately he had approached the elf king, he remembered the frantic pleas of his people to provide some form of help so that at least a handful would sustain.

Suddenly, the rage he felt dissipated. A cold block of ice began gathering in his heart and the moment he recollected the events which took afterwards, his eyes darkened reflecting the state of his heart, smouldering with a cold flame that would never extinguish.

“You are a fool to think you will gain any salvation, elf,” he said chewing every word, “You are damned. You will never be rid of your sin.”

With that, he turned and began walking away. Even in this miserable state, he maintained an air of authority. Even if he was deprived of food and energy to even walk a few feet, Thorin surprisingly found an inner strength that maintained his regal carriage as his strides took him farther from the damned elf, fuming at his words.

However, a body could withstand only so much of torture. Eventually, Thorin’s strides slowed down. His frame slumped forward. His legs grew heavy, refusing to move even a single step. His heart was pounding in his chest. Even a simple act of placing one foot forward caused Thorin’s chest to hurt. Lack of food and proper rest finally began taking its toll.

His legs cramped, his mind felt heavy. Thoughts became muddled, visions blurred and without any warning, Thorin dropped on the ground heavily, finally succumbing to the weariness which had grasped him tightly.

Thranduil should leave Thorin to his accusations, allow him to die from his own anger and foolishness, he knew he should just walk away but instead he approached him once more.

"If I was searching for salvation dwarf I would certainly not seek it with you, you can damn me all you like for my abandonment but do you honestly think if I had the power to save you I wouldn't try? There was nothing I could do to turn the tides, you had your people to look after and I had mine…I could not order them to sacrifice their lives to save a handful of yours." Thranduil growled although he forced himself to calm. "I do not offer this help in some form of redemption, whether or not you accept is neither my concern nor care. I will forget you as soon as I walk away or…" He extended his hand to Thorin. "You can accept my invitation."

Thranduil had every intention of holding true to his word, if Thorin refused him once more he had no reason to try again. He wasn't sure why he was giving Thorin a second chance as it was, it wasn't guilt or shame he honestly felt no regret for his actions so many years ago, they were justified even if unfair, a King had to be absolute in his decisions there was no room for error thus no room for remorse.

Thorin glanced at Thranduil anger still in his heart as he tried once more to stand but darkness overcame his senses and he knew no more.

Thranduil gasped slightly when Thorin fell over, his exhaustion was apparent but Thranduil didn't realize just how close this dwarf was from collapse. He drew his hand back and was about to turn away but he couldn't bring himself to do so, he didn't wish to turn away from him once more as he picked Thorin up and carried him into the forest with him.

It was far from the palace and Thranduil had no intention of bringing an unconscious Thorin Oakensheild to his home, halfway during his way toward the border he had made a small shelter near an alcove and spring, it made for a cozy little retreat away from prying eyes that seemed to constantly be upon Thranduil.

He laid Thorin down and proceeded to build a fire and prepare something for Thorin to eat, he had hoped Thorin's own hunger would force him to accept the food rather than reject it. 

* * *

 

The first thing Thorin had felt was the softness beneath him—different from the hard ground with which his back had been familiar with over the past few days. Then next came the sensation of comfort. His heart warmed and all of a sudden, days of lethargy that had accumulated at teh back of his mind shrouded his whole body and Thorin wished nothing more than to remain in that state—safe and protected.

He groaned slightly and moved his arms, a frown hitting his forehead when he felt ripples beneath his palm. They were rough and warm.

Where in Arda _was_ he?

His frown deepened and he stirred slightly. His head was beginning to throb as he was coming to his senses. The weakness which had grasped him was now felt at full force. Thorin wanted to rise up but somehow, it was much to great of a task to accomplish. His head felt extremely heavy and the rough ripples—what _were_ they? Ripples?

He felt a bit more.

No...no, wrinkles. They were wrinkles and was it fabric he felt? Soft and luscious...it was exactly like those fine covers of his bed. In Erebor...

At the very realization, Thorin’s eyes flew open, only to clench them shut again upon being hit by an uncanny blinding light. After a while, Thorin again tried. This time, he opened them slowly, letting himself be adjusted to the intensity of light which was streaming in from a small source—a flap perhaps, drawn back. 

Confusion addled his mind. Thorin knew for a fact where he spent his days, there was no flap. There was no fabric, there was no comfort!

Thorin couldn’t have known for certain. The objects were blurred, mingled with the bright light which was now softening just as the objects around him was gradually becoming sharper.

When they were coherent enough, Thorin could see that indeed the sunlight came from a flap. And indeed he was lying on a makeshift bed.

It took him some time for his bleak mind to gather what he observes and thread them by a logical string. However, when he did he sat up abruptly. The suddenness of the action made his head spin with great speed and Thorin had to close his eyes to steady himself. His head felt light and heavy at the same time. His basic instinct was to just lay back on the mattress, but his mind screamed against the very thought.

He had no idea where he was, nor about the person in charge. For all he knew, he could have been a prisoner!

Frantically, he looked about, scuffling hard to climb down from the bedding. But his body refused to move. What should’ve taken a matter of seconds now extended to minutes. Thorin scowled in annoyance and tried rushing. However, his weakened state could endure so much. So his valiant effort simply ended in Thorin stumbling backwards and hitting the ground hard.

Pain shot through his head. Thorin hissed and clutched it, trying to steady the rough spin that he was experiencing at that moment all the while forcing himself to come to a kneeling position. He was about to attempt at picking himself up but his entire body froze as he felt a pair of hands upon his shoulders.

Thranduil had been currently outside the makeshift simply enjoying the outside. He could feel the night approaching but the sun was still peering through the trees, there was still time left before darkness enveloped Mirkwood. Thranduil had never feared his forest like so many others did, he had never become lost within its vast thicket, or fell victim to its dangers, no this forest was his home and thus he had always felt safe within.

He looked back at the little make-shift tent he had prepared, he was still rather used to a life of luxury so he made sure his little retreat was well furnished and comfortable. He had Thorin outside with him at first but upon realizing he wasn't going to wake up anytime soon Thranduil moved him inside the tent. He had prepared them both something to eat but he thought rest would be best so he set what was left aside for the time being, he saw no reason to wake him up.

Thranduil's hearing picked up some movement inside the tent and he decided to go see if Thorin was actually awake, he had been asleep for a few hours but certainly not long enough considering his exhaustion but Thranduil couldn't very well force him to rest. He was kneeling on the floor as Thranduil went to him placing his hands on his shoulders.

"Are you all right?" Thranduil asked noticing the pain furthered brow.

The very touch made Thorin flinch and he jerked his shoulders vehemently, trying to get Thranduil’s palm off of him. Perhaps the elf registered his hatred for horin clearly saw a frown on his face. However, when Thranduil still hadn’t refused to let go, Thorin turned at him and snarled viciously, “Not as I see your damned face, Elf! Take your hands off me! Your very stench makes me nauseated.”

He narrowed his eyes in disdain, clenching his teeth tightly all the while trying his best not to growl at the other. For all he knew, he was alone _with_ Thranduil _in_ Thranduil’s woods. For all he knew, Thranduil was native to this place and had every knowledge that one needed to navigate through the dark forest...or leave one behind at the mercy of his luck.

And Thorin had no weapon...

His heart chilled at the very thought. His weapon...where was his sword?

He rebuked himself mentally for his callousness. When he was busy enjoying the warmth surrounding him, he had entirely forgotten to check his priorities! And now, he was at the mercy of this damned elf...as they had been days ago...

Back then, he had strength to at least defend himself but now...

His stomach growled as if by prompt and Thorin’s eyes flared with more anger and shame as he openly—albeit involuntarily—displayed his weakness in front of the other.

Of all the beings...of all the despicable beings, he failed to resist in front of _him_!

His cheeks burned with shame and no matter how badly he wanted to turn away, sheer pride kept Thorin from having his eyes downcast. Thranduil had already seen him in such a ragged state...he had seen him faint, he had brought him here—carried him even! How much more would he fall before the other’s eyes?

Thranduil sighed and let Thorin go, obviously the dwarf was all right enough to throw insults but Thranduil's pride wasn't bruised by the snide remarks, he didn't give it much thought when he was insulted it was usually a last effort to place him on the defensive so he paid it no mind. He had however hoped that Thorin would be at least silently grateful, under normal circumstances he wouldn't have cared either way but these were not normal.

"There is food and drink on the table, feel free to help yourself." Thranduil said with a simply wave of his hand, "Your effects are there." Thranduil said gesturing toward a chair which had Thorin's belt slung over the side, he had seen it fit to remove it so Thorin would be more comfortable.

Thranduil shook his head leaving the tent, it was no wonder he was in such a terrible state, did he try so hard to rebuke everyone that attempted to help him? Thranduil walked up to the spring that was only a few meters from the tent as he knelt down gently touching the surface of the water. He glanced back at the tent hearing no movement or sound coming from within, he had half a mind to tell Thorn to stop sulking and behaving like a child but he was sure that action would not be taken kindly to and he didn't wish to fight with Thorin, he found himself hoping Thorin would simply leave.

_What possessed me to bring him here in the first place?_

Thorin’s blush grew all the more furious when Thranduil directed him to the table. He looked scandalously up at the other, his shock and shame slowly leading way to anger that burned clearly in his dark eyes.

He had half a mind to yell at the other for touching him when he was in no state of defence but was cut short by another loud growl, making his eyes round up unnaturally in embarrassment. Still, he was about to make a snarky remark but before he could even do so, Thranduil left and Thorin remained standing, gritting his teeth at his lack of self control.

For a great while, Thorin simply stood at one spot, jaws clenched and eyes narrowed.

He was miserable! He had endured much and still retained his pride. However, to see his pride crumble down in front of that elf was a thought extremely unbearable to him. Anger bubbled within him and he tightened his hands in fists, breathing through his teeth to prevent himself from screaming out in frustration.

He was angry at himself for showing his weakness, at his feeble willpower for not being able to pull through but most of all, at Thranduil.

Who had asked that elf to carry him here? Who had asked him to bring Thorin food? Who asked him to show pity when Thorin did not need one? What was he trying to prove? What was he trying to achieve? Atonement for his sin? Killing Thorin’s pride?

Thorin had already failed at being king. He had failed at being a guardian, a son, a grandson...what _more_ did Thranduil want to see him failing at?

His eyes softened, swimming in unshed tears as grief and pain reflected in them.

Thranduil had every chance to be rid of him. Why could he not have left him to his death? He had every chance to make Thorin suffer...why had he not?

Wearily, he glanced up at the plate of food, the pain in his eyes increasing all the more when damaged pride stabbed his heart.

Gingerly, he approached the plate and stared at it for a long while. It looked so inviting. Nit the sort of food any one would feed a mere mongrel.

He gulped, and at that his eyes narrowed before setting into a glare.

Oh damn him! He was salivating! He realized very well that despite his vehement resolve, he _craved_ to feel a morsel of the food in his mouth, feel it between his teeth, down his throat and revel in the hearty warmth that he knew would sure to come as great content.

His fingers twitched. His heart panged with grief and shame. Slowly, he raised his arm, all the while feeling his heart wrench with shame and self-loathe at what he was about to do.

But he couldn’t resist any more.

He had already failed...and he was failing again. His resolve was waning. He needed food. He needed something to drink...he failed yet again.

_Mahal, forgive me._

Thranduil took a deep breath from outside the tent, he could practically taste the night coming closer as the temperature began to drop slowly and steadily. He had been walking the forest for over a day, setting up his camp, carrying a rather filthy dwarf, cooking, building a fire; he looked back at the water and shrugged. He removed his robe and the rest of his clothing folding them neatly beside the spring, true he had an extra pair of clothing in his tent but right now he wanted to avoid Thorin and simply pretend he wasn't there. If he was lucky maybe the damned dwarf would leave without another moment between them.

He slipped into the cold water take a sharp breath when the chill hit him although it was refreshing and oh so relaxing. He dipped his head beneath the surface and proceeded to wash the dirt and soot from himself feeling better once that simple task was finished he rested his head on the bank starring into the sky, a small clearing of the trees allowing him to see the stars start to peek out from the sky as day slowly turned into night.

Thorin quietly finished his dinner, all the while keeping his ears sharp. He could hear muffled steps approaching and retreating, before they faded altogether.

Elves and their dainty feet!

He waited a bit longer, trying to catch any hint that Thranduil was nearby. He certainly did not want to face him right when he was about to leave. He had one faceful of that disgusting being for one day.

When no other sounds emerged, Thorin sighed and gingerly opened the flap of the tent, scanning the area sharply and relaxing once he saw no sign of Thranduil. Relieved, he gathered his bearings and proceeded to head out where his senses would take him.

He walked and walked and had no idea where his feet was leading him to. All he knew was that he had to put a great distance between him and the elf to save himself from further shame.

After a while, he frowned on seeing a particularly thick tree, twisted by vines. Had he not crossed it once? He walked some more but once more as he came face to face with the same tree a deep sense of horror chilled him from inside.

He was walking in circles.

His heart dropped and Thorin inhaled shakily, feeling the very air pass through a a void where his heart should have been. Suddenly, he felt a pang across his chest as panic was rapidly building inside his mind. His feet froze and desperation flashed in his face.

_No, no, no!_

Despite the tiny voice at the back of his head, he started moving again, this time his pace picking up as more and more the dread solidified within him. He went right, then left, then right again till he lost all sense of direction.

He was horrified. Wherever he looked, he could see nothing but trees reaching up to the skies, shrouding the forest in nothing but darkness. His bones chilled to the core. No, he couldn’t end like that! He could not have fed himself and swallowed his pride just so that he could die moments  later!

Just then when he had lost all sense of hope, his ears perked up at the sound of ripples of water lapping against the ground.

He listened closely and when he was fairly certain that it wasn’t simply his mind playing tricks, Thorin gingerly began approaching it. His feet picked up speed. The more he approached closer, more prominent the sound became and by and by the sheer terror in his heart began to be lessened.

There, just behind the bush! The sound was coming strongly and Thorin’s face broke into a smile as he thanked Mahal again and again for his act of grace. With great haste, Thorin practically lurched through the thick bushes and looked up.

His smile faltered immediately and just as his heart was filled with optimism, every bit of that positive feeling got wiped away as he now took in the sight in front of him.

That...that elf! Here again!

And what was he doing? Was he...oh Mahal no! Let his eyes be gouched out! Anything was better than seeing the ghastly sight before him.

That indecent elf, he...he was standing tall and proud—bare skinned and with no sense of decency! Moonlight outlined his frame in a soft glow of pale yellow, gently merging with the shadows behind. Water was dripping from his back, down the curve of his waist and buttocks...down his legs...his long legs...

Thorin grit his teeth and tore his eyes away. He was pathetic! Why had he not looked away at the very first chance?

“Elf!” He barked, angry at both himself and the other for allowing him to slip thusly, “Will you not cease to appear where you are not needed!”

Thranduil thought. "You were the one who came stumbling through the bushes, I've been here the whole time…what are you doing wandering about anyway?" He said as he took his remaining clothing in hand.

Thranduil wouldn't have been surprised if Thorin had decided to leave and had gotten a bit lost, these woods could be confusing and even enchanting who were not of the woodland, there were not on the road of which others used to navigate through the forest. Thranduil didn't need the road, he knew this forest inside and out without any form of direction, however Thorin seemed not nearly as comfortable as Thranduil was.

"Don't snarl as me like some type of beast! You have no right!" Thranduil said his voice boomed with authority when he spoke. This impudent dwarf was going a little too far with his insults and jabs and Thranduil was becoming tired with it all.

Thorin faltered at the sudden commanding tone emitting from the other. That he was shaken up was well evident in his face but just as quickly as the shock had appeared on his expressions, it ebbed away just as fast, making way for the underlying anger to take its place.

“Neither have you to poke your nose where it won’t fit!” He retorted with as much dignity as possible. However despite his attempt, he himself was well aware how silly he sounded, shouting mindlessly at someone who truly did just not appear out of the blue.

However, his pride kept him from admitting that and when Thranduil took a jab at that very pride, it flared up violently and made Thorin hiss spitefully, “And I do not believe I shall have to owe you any explanation. I can roam wherever I want whenever I want. It is clear you could care less. Else you would not have left us to our Fate and cowered under your covers when Erebor was burnt to ashes!”

"You're wrong." Thranduil stated simply. "You are in MY woodland behind my borders. I previously extended my hand in compassion. Do not make me strike you down with the same hand." Thranduil narrowed his eyes at the other dangerously. "I have fought and battled my fair share of Dragons, Smaug is your first, so you have not the right or experience to tell me what I should have done that day, even if I was to battle alongside you Erebor would still have been burnt to ash…can you not see that? Nothing would have saved you expect a black arrow and that was well beyond my reach."

“Nothing more would have given us a glimmer of hope if you had used what was in your reach. Can _you_ not see that?” Thorin said, his voice faltering in the end as guilt and grief wrenched his heart mercilessly.

The fire in his eyes softened and he finally let them be downcast under the burden of shame. Once more could he hear the terrible shouts and screams, once more could he smell the burning of flash and woods, and once more was he reminded what it was to be a proper king and a feigned one.

Thranduil could see the flash of pain that swept across Thorin's features as he thought back to his homeland that was ruined, Thranduil wasn't sure how he himself would feel it he saw his woodland burning as Thorin had seen Erebor…no, actually Thranduil would know exactly what he would feel, pure horror.

"Hope wasn't enough." Thranduil said as he made his way back to the camp surprised that Thorin followed.

“No,” Thorin replied gently, unaware of his feet carrying him just two steps behind Thranduil, “But it would’ve been a less horrifying end.”

He stopped suddenly as the tent came to view yet again. His cheeks burned as he realized that he had followed Thranduil back like a helpless little dwarfling, afraid of the forest. To be honest, he would have willingly entered had Thranduil invited him in. He knew how badly he needed rest and he found himself—much to his embarrassment—craving the soft lush feeling of the bedding once more under his sore body.

But...Thranduil would not have anything more to do with him, would he? Thorin himself wanted to get away from this dreadful person...so then why was he expecting Thranduil to act *now*?

Thranduil glanced back at Thorin who had followed him all the way and although he wanted to tell Thorin to wander aimlessly in the forest and fall into the river and drown, he restrained himself. Thorin was mentally broken and physically exhausted and Thranduil could hardly blame him for being so angry and hateful toward him, but he wouldn't let Thorin trample all over him either.

"Stay, rest and recuperate…don't deny that you need it because I am not so noble as to keep on offering you this kindness only to have you insult me for it later. I have no ulterior motive in all this if that is your concern, I would have done the same for anyone else."

Thranduil said as he entered the tent to change into more simple attire, nothing formal or flashy just some doe-skin breeches and a white tunic that would lace up the front.

Thorin’s heart panged with a sudden bout of rage. Though he was unsure whether his anger was directed a Thranduil for hurting his pride or on himself who chose to stand out so vulnerable and lost before the elvenking once more after he had been brutally rejected.

He stood silently and didn’t even flinch when Thranduil walked past into the tent. He grit his teeth and glared at the ground, as if that would be the end of his troubles.

That damned elf...he had refused to lend a hand before and now he was back showing him pity. *Pity*! As if Thorin was a useless being who could crumble anytime under pressure. As if Thorin had not the strength to fend for himself.

Suddenly, his eyes started stinging as a myriad of voices spoke in his mind. They blamed him, accused him reminded him of the fateful day when all of Erebor was lost. Thorin could hear screams, he could hear wails and cries, pleads for help, begs of relieving them from the sheer agony which they suffered. He could hear fire crackling violently, stone walls crumbling down, sounds of shuffling feet moving chaotically in all directions, just so they could escape flames and certain death.

Thorin gasped and clenched his eyes shut. His hands automatically flung on either side of his head, hopelessly trying to flush away the horrifying thoughts which did not seem to cease.

When he opened his eyes again after a long while, a sense of composure set about them. It was not because he was calm, neither because he was angered at anybody particular. Instead, blankness washed over them.

Thorin had given up. He had accepted his failure. And if he was to accept his shame before the elf, it did not feel like having much effect on his ego.

Quietly, he slid on the ground and leaned back against a log placed near the fire. His eyes were becoming heavy. His mind was too tired to even support his inherent pride.

Slowly he drifted off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Unfortunately, we don't own 'The Hobbit' and its characters. Fortunately, it' fanfiction. So we *can* borrow them and make them bend to our will~ ;)
> 
> AN: This chapter is...well, you might say, gateway to Thorinduil. We tried to make it obscure at some parts (pertaining to one of the character's state of mind) and we hope it came through!
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Thranduil for a long while stayed in the confines of the tent not bothering with checking to see if the dwarf was still nearby or if he had been foolhardy enough and had actually ventured off into the forest again, which would have been a mistake but he wouldn't put it past Thorin either. Thorin was trying much too hard to make this entire situation harder than it needed to be although in the end he couldn't really blame him either.

After a few hours he decided to see if Thorin was still close and he found himself slightly pleased to see him sleeping soundly near the fire. Thranduil sighed, even though he would have been more comfortable in the tent at least he was finally resting something he needed desperately.

He sat down across from Thorin after placing some new wood on the fire, the forest did become rather cold at night so keeping the fire going was the best way to ward off the biting wind, that or go back inside the tent.

Thoin stirred slightly when a soft sound entered his ears. Even with his eyes closed, he could feel a sudden change in light and warmth. It felt nice...it gave him comfort—the likes of which he yearned for days. Like in his chambers where a servant would come and place sufficient woods in the fire, keeping the vast chamber cozy and warm beating even the harshest of wintry Erebor nights. Very soon, Thorin began dreaming of the familiar surroundings of his palace and home. At the sweet memories he cherished, his lips curled upwards and he sighed in relief as his sleep deepened.

He stirred again as another crackling sound came floating in his ears. The light increased, as did the heat. A frown appeared between his brows. His mind—addled and weary with sleep—now found itself boggled with lush images of Erebor which were morphing together into an incoherent mess till it made no sense at all.

The rich mattress of his bed quickly turned to cold grass of the ground. The pillows he rested against soon felt hard and woody, splinters prickling his skin. His fur covers were gone. The fire in the fireplace suddenly crackled and took a life of its own. It grew and grew and grew, spreading all over the floor, climbing up along walls.

Faint screams could be heard. Strong wind began flowing. It was hot and hellish. The sky all around glowed with a red tint which grew brighter and brighter every second.

 Another crackling sound, another flash of light.

Suddenly, Thorin found himself standing on a barren land, wasted with chars and ashes. He looked around frantically, trying to find any other sign of life. But when there was none, he grew desperate. He looked even more, calling out incoherent names but his cries went unanswered, All of a sudden, he looked back.

There upon a cliff stood a faint figure. Tall and slender, it was misty and vague, all the more shrouded by the moonlight falling over it. The figure was looking at him. Thorin knew. For even in the darkness, he could feel icy orbs staring straight at him.

Hopeful, he screamed for help but no sound came out. He screamed again but again, all that came out was a rasp jet of air. Only air, no voice. The figure was now starting to turn away. Thorin’s heart was gripped with panic. He began running towards it but the ground pulled him back. The figure was now moving away. Slowly, its form was disappearing and becoming one with the fog which slowly began surrounding it. Gradually, the back of the being became tapered as clouds of grey overlapped all around him. And just like that, it was gone.

It was then that Thorin finally felt a new life in his voice. It was then that he felt himself moving forward. But in his haze, he failed to notice that he had already sat up and had been screaming in his sleep some name that he himself would no longer be able to remember.

A cold sweat draped his entire form. His eyes were wide and fretful, breath swollen and his entire body trembled as he relieved the dreadful experience for another time.

Thranduil had glanced back at Thorin as he slept, he seemed to be lost in pleasant memories as a smile crept across his lips, Thranduil was actually glad to see that at least in his dreams he could find a reprieve from his current misery, the unfortunate dwarf had endured so much it would make most weep for him.

Thranduil in all honesty was still unsure on why he was being so accommodating to someone who wanted nothing to do with him, under normal circumstances he wouldn't have cared or given it a second thought, he was taught all his life that a King’s rule must be absolute, when an order was given weather right or wrong it mattered not once it was made, one had to be convinced and absolute in all, so not reflecting on it was normal…at least for him.

He was so lost in his own musing that when Thorin startled up screaming it shocked Thranduil as well…it was strange though that he was screaming his name and Thranduil eyed him curiously what terrible vision had he seem that it made him scream his name in such terror, especially when not moments before he seemed to be lost in pleasant dreams and now he seemed bewildered and apprehensive. He wanted to reach out and show him some type of comfort but decided against it, he really didn't feel like enduring any more insults.

Thorin’s breathe was still haggard by the time he came to his senses. However, the trembling of his body had lessened and upon looking around, he relaxed somewhat, when he saw thick dark cover of the froest instead of a burning and chaotic kingdom.

His eyes mellowed the moment later and his heart felt like being stabbed when the harsh reality hit him.

He was no longer in Erebor. There _was_ no Erebor.

Sighing bitterly, he let his gaze wander off to the fire which was crackling beside him. Immediately, his eyes widened and whatever grief he felt was quickly shoved away by a swell of anger when they landed upon that very familiar face.

“You,” he said. His eyes narrowed and voice lowered down to a rumble at the very sight of that person.

“You have no obligation to be here. Neither do you have an excuse of me disturbing your dainty sleep,” Thorin said coldly, clenching and unclenching his fists in a vain attempt of calming himself down.

Thranduil had offered help _now_ — he told himself. That he had fed him and offered a shelter. However, his sense of gratitude fell extremely short when he was reminded of the harsh rejection from before and Thorin was left seething in fury as once again, Thranduil’s face came to view.

“Go back to your luxury. I shall be gone by morning.”

"I did not come out here for you." Thranduil said simply, "The fire is important to keep the beasts the roam this forest at bay…and despite that, the night is young enough to still hear the stars sing." Thranduil looked up toward the sky the small clearing allowing a clear view of the dark velvet sky with shinning stars resembling diamonds glowing brightly. "…I know you can't hear it, only elf's can after all." Part of Thranduil wished Thorin could hear the song of the stars. It would surely calm his soul as it calmed Thranduil's…in all honesty it was that calming song that was keeping him from lashing out at the callous dwarf that was content on being viscous and offensive at every given opportunity.

“Oh of course,” Thorin smiled bitterly. “Singing stars. Yes. Hear those and not what is quite in front of you.”

He rolled his eyes and tore his gaze away from the other. The very sight of the elf’s face made him irritated. When had it come to this, he wondered, that he was forced to accept help from one who so openly refused before and insulted his kin.

And now, he was showing his weakness to the elf? The same elf who would not hesitate to use it against him? Could Thorin ever be less pathetic?

Yet, after all this, he couldn’t help but feel a slight tinge of an emotion within his heart. It was not gratitude...not quite. It was anger, fury, annoyance and everything that governed Thorin whenever it came to Thranduil. But there was something more. Something that was so vague and hidden beneath the layers of emotion that Thorin could not point his fingers at it—

He stole one quick glance at the other, who was seemingly enjoying those ‘singing stars’ as he said.

-Rather, he _dared_ not to.

Quietly, Thorin rested his head on the ground and closed his eyes.

He would be gone the next morning. He had enough of insult.

"Considering my company currently, let me say their words are more importance." Thranduil said simply, if Thorin wished to be so cold-hearted he could be just the same. "Where do you plan to go?" He asked expectantly seeing Thorin's eyes open and sit up again from the question. Thranduil studied his face closely seeing a type of anger flare up in the features. "I thought so." Thranduil said after the silence confirmed Thorin simply didn't know.

Thorin almost had the impulse of letting his jaws touch the ground. How _dare_ he? How _dare_ that elf to jab him when it was in fact _his_ own awkwardness that let him to this predicament? Elves and their customs! No wonder his kin were warned of them!

However, he willed himself not to pay any heed and tried to be lulled into sleep again. At what he was asked next, he sat up.

For a while, he said nothing. He simply stared at Thranduil as his heart felt strangely burdened.

It was...it was an odd sense of awe. Thorin did not understand but whatever it was, made his heart flutter with an immense amount of swell which was slowly spreading all over his chest.

When had he last been asked that? When was he last not treated like one without existence?

And here, this elf was showing him concern...at least, h seemed concerned enough to ask about his intentions...

His heart pounded gently. A dull pain ached him and the more he stared at the other, the more it increased.

Fury took him over. More so for himself, rather than for the elf.

 Had he been so weak and helpless that he _craved_ to see sympathy? Feigned or not, he clearly _needed_ it. Otherwise, why else would this cold and stone hearted elf even offer him some?

He grit his teeth and stayed quiet. The dull ache in his chest was growing into a throbbing pain. His neck and chest felt like burning and when again Thranduil revelled, Thorin couldn’t help but let his gaze fall on the ground.

Shame covered him as once more he was forced to admit his weakness in front of his apparent enemy. His pride was hurt but at that point, it was bruised so much that Thorin now felt numb to the jabs at it.

“Futile query,” he said softly. “You know well enough.”

He _had_ no place to go. He did not even know where he would end up or how long he would even survive. He had no idea nor had he given much thought to it. Till then, he only wallowed in grief. The thought of even having a possible future did not even occur to him.

"Exactly my point, I know that you have nowhere to go, so I must ask why you refuse me so easily, why you are insulting and ungrateful for help when you desperately need it…it shouldn't matter that this help comes from me." Thranduil said looking into the fire before bringing his eyes up to meet Thorin's.

Thorin was so arrogant and proud, even with everything he still held himself like royalty and how it must pain him to accept help from a fellow King whom he felt betrayed him. This pride would be his downfall if he allowed it to hold such dominion over him.

"Stay here as long as you like, as long as you need. No one will bother you here…except me." Thranduil said with a slight smile the jest hopefully not taken the wrong way.

He saw Thranduil smile and at that, Thorin’s heart suddenly felt constricted. His cheeks burned much like the fire in his chest. His heart began pounding with an odd sense and al of a sudden, he found it quite hard to even stare at Thranduil’s face. He suddenly felt no anger clouding his mind, even though he _wanted_ to be enraged. It was strange and yet so annoying. He hated Thranduil, he berated his habit of ditching others in need...and here he was, wanting to take eyes off that arrogant elf but finding himself unable to. 

“But it does,” said Thorin. No more was pride lacing his voice. Instead, there was a deep sense of regret and sadness which shadowed his features. He inhaled deeply, hoping to soothe the knot that was forming in his throat and chest as he thought back of his kingdom. Slowly he looked up, locking his eyes with bright blue ones and went on in a voice which revealed just how broken he was, “How can I seek refuge when my entire kin perished. How do you expect me to forgive myself when it is I who failed them and it is I who alone lives? That too by the grace of someone who should never have to see me in such wretchedness.”

Thranduil paused for a moment, the change in demeanor surprised him a little, he was expecting Thorin to continue to fight him but he had stopped and admitted to some of his own faults, seeming to insult himself rather than Thranduil.

"You aren't alone…" Thranduil said softly. "I'm sure you wish to bring the mountain back to its former glory and who better than you to do that? You accepting this refuge will allow that dream to come to fruition, no one would hold it against you with such noble intentions." He said.

Thorin rolled his eyes and stared firmly at the fire burning in front of him.

“You speak kind words,” he muttered more to himself than to Thranduil. After a little while, he reverted his gaze back on to the other and very honestly, he asked, “Why _did_ you desert us?”

He couldn’t fathom it all of a sudden...Thranduil was always known to him as this cold detached being who only saw his profit. He was infamous as the son of a king who despised dwarves. He himself gave off that very vibe but here he was...sitting across Thorin, providing him food, shelter and...

His heart skipped a beat as he realized what he was about to think next.

The elf had shown him kindness, when in practicality he had no reason to. And now, he was showing support...

Thorin’s cheeks now began burning, which spread to his ears and nape as well. It became very hard for him to breath suddenly and his chest was beating so loud that Thorin feared of Thranduil’s elf ears picking up the loud drumming sounds.

Slowly, his eyes drifted upwards, over to the delicate long fingers treating the fire but they did not rest there. His eyes travelled further upwards along the sharp lines of Thranduil’s arms which curved and joined his slender neck, winding up to his face framed by long golden tresses.

Thranduil’s lips were pressed gently against themselves and his eyes were upon the woods he was prodding quietly. His face was outlined by a soft orange glow, bordering the outer line of his nose and lips, gently disappearing with an inner glow which the elf seemed to radiate. The brightness in his eyes seemed to be accentuated by the dancing flames and his hair _gleamed_ in the firelight with an uncanny perfection.

Thorin’s eyes widened and he quickly tore his eyes off the other. He had not realized that he had been staring yet again ad he was thankful that Thranduil hadn’t noticed it either. But his heart...indescribable emotions stormed his heart, rummaged it and swayed it so greatly that Thorin found it increasingly hard to just breathe.

His chest was pounding, his breaths were shallow, mind unfocused and all over him, restlessness settled just as the burn in his cheeks and nape intensified.

What was _wrong_ with him? He wondered but deep down, he could sense that he knew...he just _prayed_ for it not being true.

Thranduil frowned a little at the question was Thorin actually going to listen to him? Actually listen to the voice of reason in why he had made the decision to leave. "I fought in the War of Wrath, I know of the destruction a dragon can do…a mere hundred soldiers would not have saved you and could have even cost more lives if we enraged Smaug to retaliate…I could not send my men to their deaths when I saw no victory, true you might believe that some type of honor was to be had if we came to your aid but I did not think that was worth their lives." Thranduil paused. "And please do not take this wrongly but I did warn your grandfather of the danger, he refused to heed my warning…that was arrogant and foolish. I stand by my decision completely."

Thranduil wondered momentarily if Thorin forgot his age at times, Thranduil had fought many battles and wars in his lifetime, and those left him with the knowledge of how battles are contested and won…there was no winning against Smaug that day and Thranduil knew that so he refused to sacrifice his people for a hopeless cause no matter how noble his actions might have been.

Thorin frowned, keenly listening to the explanation. Now that he thought about it...perhaps the elf was not at all wrong about doing what he did? It was dishonourable—yes—but as a king, Thranduil was quite statistical...and truth be told, had it been Thorin, who was to say that he too would not have done the same?

His anger was still completely not washed away. Thranduil’s decision had cost so many lives. But Thorin understood that it was not completely a cowardly act. That he could not blame Thranduil any more than his own kin. He remembered well enough Thror’s last days. He saw greed in eyes which had been once wise. Even during the day of the attack, his grandfather refused to move away from the treasures.

Thranduil was not at fault. Not entirely.

Abruptly, a bout of shyness crept into his heart. He stole another glance at the other and this time, he hadn’t failed to notice Thranduil staring back, which caused his cheeks to burn all the more. Quickly, he let his gaze wander elsewhere. Though as much as he tried, eventually his gaze would fall back on the being and again would Thorin find himself watching Thranduil with great interest.

Words fell short and when just a moment ago Thorin found nothing but hatred for this elf, now, he was truly confused. Emotions warred in his heart—foreign and incoherent, each and every one of them—colliding and smashing into one another, becoming more and more cryptic as Thorin tried dwelling on them. For all he knew, he was beginning to see Thranduil in an altogether different light. And that, his heart ached...but it wasn’t a pang. It was full of discomfort but sweetness as well. It was strange... 

* * *

 

It was early dawn when Thorin quietly rose up from the ground. As gently as he could, he went inside the tent and gathered his bearings. Thranduil was still asleep and it was in Thorin’s intention to leave unseen. He was touched by the elf’s offer...he was tempted by it as well. However, he couldn’t impose himself upon Thranduil. His ethics forbade him...as did his sense of pride. Thranduil had seen enough weakness in him. Thorin disinclined to show any more.

While he ventured into the forest, he couldn’t help but sneak one last glance at the other. Thranduil’s face was serene and peaceful, much like his demeanour he bore the previous night.

He felt an odd sense of attachment, and even as he willed himself to move, he half expected a voice calling him back. But when it didn’t Thorin sighed and moved forward.

Thranduil awoke slowly, the sound of the wind rustling the forest leaves and the gentle melody of birds alerting him awake. He usually awoke with the rising of the sun, however he had stayed awake longer than usual and was somewhat distracted by a certain dwarf so he had slept right through sunrise.

He shrugged it off for the time being as he dressed and made his way out of the tent but he was a little disheartened at the realization that Thorin was nowhere to be seen. He checked the close vicinity but he didn't see him.

"You foolish…" He cursed slightly under his breath.

Thranduil knew his woodland well and were others saw mist and confusion he saw beauty and clarity, this forest even confused some elf's who became lost within, for a dwarf he could become lost forever between its tangled branches. If Thorin wanted to leave so badly he could have at least waited for Thranduil to guide him out and not go on his own where he was sure to become lost. Thranduil was about to simply leave him to his devices for being so irrational but after a moment of thought he decided he couldn't just leave him…it was a cruel fate to leave him to wander aimlessly through Mirkwood. 

* * *

 For the countless number of times, Thorin Oakenshield found him cursing his stupidity when he yet again came face to face with the very familiar structure of a tree. Still hoping against hope, he moved ahead after making a mark using his sword, praying that it was another similar looking tree he had passed for the third time. The forest was confusing. It was sickly and dark where the branches of trees twisted and wove together, giving an altogether very unappealing look. Adding to that, the path he initially saw upon entering the forest now long strayed away from him. There was no sun clear enough to navigate. There was no star bright enough he could see to point him to the right direction. Thorin wandered purely based upon his sense of direction and that too he wasn’t very well blessed with.

He stopped when he again came in front of that same tree bearing his marking. At that moment, his worst fears were confirmed. He was lost.

A cold chill ran down his spine and just as panic poured into his heart, it felt like sinking deeper and deeper till there was nothing but a void in Thorin’s chest.

He looked around frantically, trying to search any possible way that he could take to get out of this death circle. But the chances of finding a way out was slim from the beginning and despite knowing it all, Thorin ventured. He ventured and he could not even wait for the elf to wake up and direct him!

Anger bubbled within him and he cursed openly, punching the tree trunk out of pure frustration he felt upon himself.

Why could he not wait a bit longer? Why could he not accept Thransduil’s help? The elf had offered, didn’t he? The elf had extended out a hand and Thorin should’ve taken! Why did he NOT? Pride? Ego? Was it for the first time he let himself be seen vulnerable before the elf? Was it for the first time that the elf _rescued_ him from this dreadful forest? So what was the dilemma now, even when he was accommodating? Why did Thorin have to leave when there was no proper justification?

He punched again and again and again, each time growing more and more aggressive as panic and desperation gripped his heart tight.

He was now going to die. He was at a place where no one would reach him, no one could find him. He had run out of food, he had long run out of water and the way his body had suffered over the days, it would not take him long to be nothing but a pile of bones!

The irony of it all. He was fed and cared for just so he could die brutally!

He stopped when the vivid image of a face crossed his mind. Fresh from his memories, Thorin could clearly see the same serene look he had witnessed the previous night. He remembered each and every detail of the face glowing softly against the firelight. It was so smooth and in prime, conning the true years of the being. It was as if Thorin could see right in front of him the elf, his eyes downcast upon the fire he was tending. His lips pressed softly, his blue orbs shining against the flames, accentuated all the more by the long gleaming strands framing his face.

Thranduil...

His eyes widened as he realized just what he had been doing.

 _It’s not the proper time, you idiot!_ He rebuked himself.

He was thinking of Thranduil...not wishing for him to find Thorin’s miserable self but _thinking_ about him...here he was on the verge of death and where his thoughts should’ve been to survive, Thorin found himself _pondering_ over each and every line of the face he _observed_ the previous night.

Either he had given up completely upon his survival or he was making it the least of his priorities...and he did not dare to wonder why.

Thranduil followed the trail that Thorin so obviously left behind, dwarfs seemed to be naturally heavy-footed and the soft earth below Thorin's feet defiantly left its mark and was easy enough to follow. He crouched down seeing a larger indention in the ground along a certain path. "You're going in circles." Thranduil said shaking his head as he stood and noticed a distinct mark upon one of the trees making his scoff. "Even with that you still have gotten yourself lost…" Thranduil was slightly irritated in all honesty he had left the palace and ventured far into the forest to get some rest and relaxation for a few days before he would be need to return to the fast and demanding lifestyle that was a king’s providence…yet now he was tracking down a lost dwarf.

Even though Thranduil himself wasn't really concerned he _was_ slightly worried for Thorin, the longer he was in the forest the more and more confusion and disorientation would set it, Thranduil himself was immune due to the fact the enchantment on the forest was of his own creation. Not to mention it was conditioned to not affect elves. However, that confusion can be dangerous to Thorin's well being. The thick air making ones head swim, the lack of sunlight, not even a breeze through the thick forest…not to mention the many foul creatures that lurked about. One would think that the time they had spent together would be just as confusing but Thranduil himself seemed to project a field of safety from the effects, as long as he was close by one would not feel the effects…Thorin was simply safer with him so it was important to find him as soon as possible.

 Thorin didn’t know whether it was still morning or if night had rolled by. He didn’t know and he didn’t care. After hours and hours of roaming aimlessly, he finally gave up and dropped on the ground. His head was heavy with disorientation—the very air felt dark and foul. Not a single ray of light reached the damned forest, not a single chirp of bird could be heard. All around him there were mazes of trees and their looping branches. Where ever his eyes fell, Thorin saw the same structure of trees over and over again. What he thought to be there once to his right, the moment later, he found it to his left.

 His eyes were growing heavy. His body suddenly began feeling numb. Thorin felt apathetic. He knew he had to rise up and move while he still could but an immense lethargy took over him. The very act of standing up seemed to be bothersome. He would sit here. He was going nowhere either way. Why waste his energy roaming around when he could just sit here and rest.

 He would rest. He would take a small nap and after that he would feel healthy enough to navigate again.

 In the distance, he could hair faint sounds reaching his ears. Like echoes of ghosts, calling his name, saying something. He scrunched up his face and rolled to his side. He was too tired. He needed sleep.

 The sounds grow louder but they were extremely muffled. After a while, a sweet smell invaded his nostrils—the smell of juniper and berries. Thorin sniffed a great deal of it and smiled to himself. The smell soothed him, comforted him.

 He groaned when he registered something shaking his body. With great difficulty, he cracked open his eyes and saw a white... _something_ shaking him roughly by his arms. The scent grew stronger. His nostrils were fully assaulted by the fragrance and despite the luscious freshness it had about it, Thorin couldn’t help but feel irritated.

 He vaguely remembered fending the thing off but after that, everything became a blur as he finally lulled to a slumber.

 _Cursed dwarf_ , Thranduil thought inwardly as he tried to rouse Thorin who only swatted him away as if annoyed, it wasn't a good idea to fall asleep in the forest, especially with their current situation of being quite a distance from the camp site…Thorin had actually managed to get farther than Thranduil had anticipated, regardless of the fact in was in the wrong direction. Thranduil thought for a moment but sighed as he grabbed Thorin by his collar lifting him up before slapping him hard across the face. "You have to wake up!" He screamed trying to make sure Thorin wouldn't be lulled aback into sleep by the whispering trees.

Thorin frowned hard and shrugged off the annoying thing which was disturbing him greatly. He grumbled under his breath and again concentrated on going back to sleep. He cringed roughly as his ears registered a sound that was so out of place with what he was surrounded by. He ignored it once, twice but the more he seemed to do so, the louder those horrid screeches became. Suddenly, his eyes flew open as he felt a great sting across his face while his cheek began paining and throbbing as a red hot sear flashed across it. Groggily, he opened his eyes, flinching a moment after at the sudden _brightness_ which seemed to blind his eyes with its glare. Had he been conscious enough, he would immediately see the oddity in that very action...for Mirkwood was well renowned for being dark and devoid of any touch from the sun whatsoever.

 After a great while, Thorin slowly opened his eyes again, letting them be accustomed to the sudden change in light, as blurred scenes came to view, slowly sharpening to a more solid image only to be frazzled the moment later. Even in that state, he could make out vague outlines of a face which seemed to be looking straight at him. He tried his best, squinting his eyes and even succeeding a little as the eyes and nose of the face slowly lost their blur and focused in and out repeatedly till Thorin could just about make out the familiar set of eyebrows.

 “Is that you, Elf?” He asked softly, suddenly feeling his head throbbing with a weakness and a poor sense of balance. “Let me rest. I am weary. And if it is all a dream, then do your best to stay out of it. Please.” He added with an odd nature to his normally haughty tone.

 Thranduil shook his head, irritated with Thorin for being so foolish as to wander off alone, and then accuse him of being nothing more than a dream.  He took Thorin by the arms trying his best to haul him to his feet, it was amazing how much a dwarf could actually weigh, he was heavier than Thranduil had first anticipated and with Thorin still teetering between being asleep and being awake it didn't take much for him to topple over.

"Thorin, listen to me you need to stay awake." Thranduil urged trying to get him to stand again. "If you fall asleep again I cannot guarantee when you will wake up again." Thranduil could help him stay awake and even lead him out of the forest if he so wished, but he didn't want to carry and unconscious dwarf around anymore than he already had.

“Hey hey hey!” Thorin protested extremely indignantly when by a swooping motion, his head spun out of control as his feet were finally met with the ground extremely callously till he collided roughly against a very warm body. It was then that the full realization of his horror struck him. He realized that he was not alone. That he simply was not dreaming any part of this.

He blinked furiously, trying his best to shake off the heaviness set on his eyelids. His heart sank deeper in the pits of his chest when he realized that he simply _couldn’t._ His eyes refused to stay open and even if Thorin could attribute it to his general weakness in the beginning, the way his head grew heavier with a sudden burden made him quickly discard that very thought. Out of sheer panic, Thorin tried lifting his arms. But they refused to co-operate as well. It felt as if he had no energy of his own. All the life and strength he had acquired hours ago suddenly felt replenished and as that realization hurled towards him, Thorin grew more and more fretful.

He tried moving his legs but they would not. He tried moving his arms, his body, his head—anything but he just could not. He tried again, harder this time, willing to drag every bit of his muscles if he had to but no matter how much effort he put in, it all seemed to go in utter vain.

“What is this place?” He screamed out but his throat felt very weak and sore, as if he had not been talking for days. The scent of berries and juniper was strong as ever. It alluded him, clouded his judgement and oddly, it increased the closer he stood next to the other. It calmed him somewhat, it felt nice and soothing and sweet...

Thorin soon jerked back to his senses at the feel of a sharp tug on his arm. He turned sharply at the other, his feet swaying with the swinging feeling in his head and with great difficulty, he managed to squint and blink repeatedly as he asked, “What sick magic lies here? If you are really Thranduil, tell me how to get away from this enchantment! If you are not, do _not_ mess with my mind!”

Thranduil sighed. This _dwarf’s mind is already so distorted he certainly doesn't need any help,_ Thranduil thought inwardly although he kept the comment to himself. "Follow me." Thranduil said simply.

Thorin took a step to follow but he swayed and by natural instinct Thranduil leaned in to catch him before he once again collapsed to the floor. Thranduil could feel the strong grip on his arms and the heavy breath brushing across his skin as Thorin tried to regain some sense of composure and stance, it was slightly amusing to see Thorin so disoriented almost as if he was drunk, under normal circumstances he would never so willingly lean against Thranduil and accept his help.

Thranduil had seen many people fall victim to the forests enchantment but he had never reached out to help anyone before now…however this was different, he had decided to help Thorin and he couldn't very well go back on his word, not now. Regardless Thorin would have never even entered Mirkwood had Thranduil not brought him here in the first place so it was only right to help him.

Thranduil managed to get Thorin to take things one step at a time and they eventually reached the camp once again, with the few clearings from the treetops it allowed fresh air to reach them, and a cool breeze to occasionally sweep down. He saw Thorin take a deep breath once back but he still was holding on to Thranduil tightly.

He did not know how many twists and turns Thranduil took, nor did he seem to care at that moment. There was one thing which was ringing in his mind: he _had_ to get out of that dreaded place. Though not quite...Thorin—even in his befuddled state—couldn’t fathom why his heart sped at an uncanny rate each time he bumped against Thranduil when his feet swayed violently. The warmth radiating from the elf felt so gentle and calming that Thorin found himself unwillingly leaning towards the other more often than not, till he simply rested his weight against him. His chest was warming up fast by the heat of a slow and smouldering flame which was beginning to burn deep in his hearth. His cheeks began feeling warmer and warmer till that very sensation in itself caused them to sting as it crept down his neck. He liked it, he enjoyed it and soon, he began *craving* it. Soon, he found himself inhaling deeply and frequently. At first, it was simply to catch his breath but the more they progressed, more Thorin found it inevitable for him to stay away from the sweet, fresh scent which seemed to be radiating out from the other, infiltrating his nostrils and throwing his heart and mind in a storm.

Heavy and addled, his mind soon began sweeping out any other concern Thorin had for himself. His thoughts crashed into each other and converged till they were too vague to be distinguishable. The worries started disappearing, the horrors he faced lay forgotten and whatever thoughts he was likely to have at that point were quickly driven towards only one which seemingly dominated his mind.

His heart was beating extremely rapidly. The heat in his cheeks, chest and ears was becoming unbearable. The sweet scent was overpowering him, the feel of warm skin beneath the other’s tunic made him restless, his thoughts bending him to their will— he did not want the moment to end. It was like a bliss he had received after so much grief and Thorin had every intention of holding it tight so that it did not slip from his hold.

Suddenly, the movement stopped. Thorin could no longer feel muscles and fabric moving against his own body. The sway in his feet was greatly reduced and once more could he feel firm ground beneath him which was not shifting and swinging like a stormy sea.

He breathed in once more, this time out of pure relief, but the feeling of reprieve that had washed over him soon got replaced by a more turbulent range of emotions, overtaking his heart, causing it to beat wilder than ever as once more the intoxicating smell of the elf reined its power of Thorin’s being.

His fingers curled around fabric and it was then that Thorin realized that indeed he was gripping with dear life what he considered to be bliss. It wasn’t the moment, it wasn’t even his feeling of respite. Rather, it was the most unlikely of all sources.

_Thranduil..._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I wish for a lot of things- owning 'The Hobbit' and its characters is one of them. But that's limited to a wish. *sighs*
> 
> AN: Here's another update. I have you guys to thank for such an awesome response!  
> Also, a huge shoutout to the lovely Nerwen for being an awesome Thranduil to my Thorin! ^_^

Thranduil waited for Thorin to find his bearing before he spoke up. "You can let go of me anytime now." He said slightly annoyed and amused, but not willing to make any large issue out of the scene.

His voice seemed to startle Thorin and the fact that he was so close seemed to unnerve him all the more as he practically jumped away from Thranduil at his own realization that he was clinging to the elf. Thranduil couldn't suppress a slight laugh, a rare melodeons chuckle escaping his lips as he took a seat of the soft grass near the small fire that was slowly dying out.

"No need to look so surprised, you did ask for my help even if you were delirious." He said while placing some more wood onto the hot embers. "If you feel the need to go on a morning stroll simply wait for me next time, you are not immune to the forests enchantment, I however am." Thranduil said.

It was Thranduil pointing it out which made Thorin to let out a surprised gasp as he sprung away from the other, as if he had touched a hot piece of iron. However, he was still not completely out of the influence of whatever magic he had been under, which made him stumble a few steps back, till he had to kneel down in order to avoid an embarrassing fall.

Thranduil laughed and it was all that Thorin could take.

His heart was pounding very loudly, so loud that the only sound his ears could register was its rapid thuds. There was an odd sense of discomfort in his chest. He couldn’t breathe properly, his chest and ribs felt constricted and the burning feeling in his cheeks and ears grow hotter and hotter by the second as blood flowed to them.

Was he out of his mind? Of all the people, did he have to fall for _this_ one?

His eyes grew wide with shock as he realized what he just thought of.

Fall? He fell for Thranduil? Had he really? When? How? Did he not a day or two ago despise that very being? Did he not see how Thranduil treated his kin? Then why could he not blame Thranduil? Why could he not despise him back? Had the elf’s words enchanted him so much? Or was it the elf himself?

Thranduil spoke again and at that, Thorin’s heart wrenched with that same discomfort which only doubled in intensity as did the sting in his cheeks. Thranduil had seen his dishevelled expression but thankfully, he had attributed it to Thorin’s normal pride. Oh if he knew what it was that made Thorin’s eyes grow as large as the moon!

Thranduil’s words were momentarily ignored as Thorins attention was kept affixed on the elven king who tended the fire with such delicateness about him. As he reached out, Thorin’s eyes followed every line of Thranduil’s body—starting from his long arm, curving over his shoulder and sloping gently to the arch of his back and waist, finally settling upon the smooth lines of his thighs and shin. The fire was soft and gentle—rendering a pale yellowish gleam to the other’s face as it gradually faded with the natural tone of his skin.

Thorin felt his breath hitch. The pounding in his heart was now unbearable. His mind was ringing with one name only as his tongue sought to taste it while it rolled out. However, Thorin’s throat felt dry all of a sudden. His lungs felt like being crushed out of air and even though Thorin wished to say so much, all that came out was a shuddering breath followed by a strangled sound which was meant to sound like the very name of the other.

Thranduil titled his head up when he heard Thorin mumble something, he wasn't sure what he had said so he simply looked at him curiously. For a brief moment he thought Thorin looked as if he was going to be ill, he looked a bit feverish his cheeks being stained pink and his uneven and rapid breath concerned Thranduil.

"You should sit down, you're still recovering somewhat from the effects of the forest…you'll be safe here though." Thranduil stood and retrieved a water-sack that was nearby offering it to Thorin. "Drink this." He said leaning slightly closer to the other, but only to study his condition a little more clearly, to see if he truly was ill.

He noticed Thorin breath hitch when he leaned closer to him and frowned at the strange behavior, what reason does this dwarf have for being so nervous? It wasn't as if Thranduil was going to hurt him, he honestly had no intention bad or good otherwise toward him. In this situation he could easily pass it off as curiosity mixed with compassion as to why he had gotten involved in the first place, but Thorin had no reason to worry.

Having Thranduil gaze at him did not make Thorin’s situation any better. He stiffened uncharacteristically and when he saw that his actions were picked up by Thranduil quite easily, he cussed himself mentally and appeared to be unaffected as he lift his chin up and meet the other in the eyes.

Though as Thorin would realize soon, that in itself, required ample amount of strength and willpower.

Those sharp blue eyes were upon him, _scanning_  every inch of his face. Thorin had no idea of what Thranduil wanted to seek in Thorin’s eyes, rather he did not _dare_  form an idea.

He breathed in deeply and slowly, trying desperately to calm the storm in his heart. But he felt the full weight of Thranduil’s gaze upon him, boring into him, _drilling_ into his mind, as if to try and rip apart layers and layers of security till he found what Thorin tried hiding in the deepest corners.

Thranduil’s strong scent again invaded his senses and when the elf leaned towards him, Thorin’s eyes couldn’t help but flicker once to Thranduil’s lips. Subconsciously, Thorin licked his lips once as his mind raced with countless trails of thoughts. He wondered how inviting those lips could be; how soft they would feel against his own and how gently they would move under his lips.

He soon shook out of his trance and gladly averted his eyes on the water bag.

“Thank you,” he said taking it from the other and drinking a generous amount from it. When he was satisfied, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before handing it back.  

Thranduil took back the sack and moved away from Thorin, it was drawing closer to evening, he had skipped breakfast since he was out looking for Thorin and the time it took to get back to the campsite lunch had come and gone.

"I suppose you're hungry…I set a few traps for fish previously, I'll go check on them now." Thranduil said, Thorin seemed more at ease when he knew where Thranduil was rather than being oblivious to the situation. "I shan’t be long, don't let the fire die unless you like raw fish." Thranduil said walking into the forest.

Thranduil took a deep breath as he glanced about his forest, he was supposed to be alone during this time but for some reason he didn't find Thorin's presence all that annoying, and now that he was not slinging insults and actually regarded him with a little dignity, it was somewhat pleasant. Not that it wasn't a little awkward, it was strange that they now found themselves together, but it wasn't horrible.

He went to the traps set up in a small stream pleased to find three fish caught in the net as he unsecured the net and lifted the fish from the water and made his way back to camp, he would have to set the net up again later in a different spot but he could always do that later. When he returned he nearly dropped the food upon not seeing Thorin.

 _Don't tell me he ran off again!_ Thranduil mentally screamed as he began to frantically look for him sighing relived when he was found inside the tent. When he found him Thorin stood up straight instantly looking rather guilty like he had been caught doing something he shouldn't have…was he doing something?

"What are you doing? I asked you to watch after the fire." Thranduil said eyeing him intently.

“Fish would be nice,” Thorin said trying not to sound the famished being which he was. Days of hunger had taken its toll on him greatly and at that point, even if the elf offered him leaves and herbs, Thorin would gladly devour them.

He felt waves of gratitude towards the other. Perhaps he had completely misjudged Thranduil. Perhaps the other was not as heartless as he made himself to be in Thorin’s earlier impression. Thorin had seen a warmer side of Thranduil. He had _understood_ why Thranduil took come decisions and now that his eyes had been opened, he could not find any blame in the other.

Quite the contrary in fact.

His heart leapt in his throat when Thranduil rose up, the movement causing his hair to slide gracefully on his shoulder. How one could be so dainty was beyond Thorin’s realizations. He had never seen someone so elegant and so flawless! While dwarves exuded masculinity to extreme degrees, elves on the other hand always seemed to possess a sense of delicateness about them. But wonder of wonders was their king himself!

As Thranduil began walking away, Thorin’s eyes longingly stared at that direction, taking in each fluid movement made by the elf. Thranduil didn’t walk. He _glided._ His hair swayed gently on his back, repeating the slight motion as made by his hands while he walked gracefully further and further into the forest.

A deep and profound sensation suddenly shook Thorin at his very core. He felt his heart being drummed loudly within his chest, threatening to be ripped off as it beat powerfully. His cheeks now burning once more, he felt a sudden urge to just hold Thranduil—hold his hair, his skin, his arms—anything relating to him! He tried thinking rationally. Told himself that it was a mere fleeting fancy, that he was deluding himself and that it was nothing more than kindness on Thranduil’s behalf. Yet, all logic failed him as they were shattered as soon as they were formed, swept away by strong currents of those regarding the elven king himself.

Unable to withstand any longer, Thorin got on his feet, beginning to walk towards where his legs carried him on their own as his instincts and a sudden strong urge took him over. Finally he stopped and looked around, his eyes growing wider as the full realization of his location hurled towards him with a great force.

He was in Thranduil’s tent. He had absolutely no reason to be here, yet there he was!

Suddenly, guilt came over him. It wasn’t proper. He was invading one’s privacy and whatever he was taught dictated again and again that he should turn back before he came to regret!. Following his instincts, he quickly turned on his heels but he couldn’t move! His feet refused him and Thorin understood that it was not the fault of his weakness or any other magic of the dark woods...no! Rather, it was the enchantment of another being altogether. Thorin couldn’t leave because he didn’t _want_ to! Not because he _couldn’t!_

With that, the rationale in him was swiftly fading and soon enough, it was hidden by an overwhelming lust that washed over him.

At that very moment, he wanted nothing but to taste those soft lips tha had seemed so inviting! He wanted to feel Thranduil’s skin, he wanted to see if his cheeks were indeed soft and smooth as they seemed to be.

A powerful sweep of desire and longing began rummaging his insides. Slowly, he could feel an uncomfortable heat gathering between his thighs and the more Thorin thought about the elf, the hotter and hotter it grew, pulsating and aching with nothing but pure need.

He felt a rough jab in his heart when he heard a sudden voice coming from behind him. Quickly he spun on his heels, his eyes falling on a very familiar face looking extremely confused while Thranduil directed a question towards him.

However, as soon as the jolt of surprise had tensed Thorin’s whole frame, it ebbed away just as swiftly. Visibly, Thorin’s shoulders relaxed and his face smoothed in composure as he deeply regarded the other, peering straight into his eyes.

He felt something stirring between his legs, a terse heat sinking in that very region as Thranduil’s questioning eyes fell upon him. Thorin’s gaze flickered once more to his lips. They moved but Thorin blocked any words which were to enter his ears. His eyes schooled into deep concentration, shining with lust and desire as they remained fixed and mesmerised upon Thranduil’s lips as they pouted and parted to form words.

Then, without even registering it in his mind, Thorin began moving, taking long strides towards the closing every inch between them. His palms rested against Thranduil’s torso, his fingers curling around the fabric, pulling it heavily and bringing the other closer to his level till their lips hovered precariously.

“I wish I had answers,” he rasped, his breaths growing hot and heavy, “But not everything _needs_ answers.”

With that, he pressed his lips against Thranduil’s own, muffling any protest that began coming from the elf.

Thorin didn't seem to even care what Thranduil had said, he simply looked at him intently as if studying him their eyes locking onto one another but Thranduil couldn't read the expression Thorin wore. It was as if Thorin had some intentional purpose now, he no longer had that lost look in his eyes as he had previously…there was something different about his eyes, they looked darker and somewhat ominous, these smoldering eyes suited Thorin much better.

Thranduil was going to dismiss it all together but when Thorin suddenly approached him grabbing is tunic pulling him ever closer as if his life depended on the words he now spoke like they held some deep inner question that Thranduil was unaware of.

  _Answers? Answers to what?_ Thranduil thought momentarily but only momentarily as his thoughts were interrupted abruptly when Thorin kissed him.

For a moment he was completely stunned by the turn of events, so much so that he couldn't even move or react to the action but upon feeling Thorin's tongue gently run across his lips, he tried to pull away but Thorin still held tightly onto his tunic which kept him in place as he tried to form words around the insistent lips that were pressed so firmly against his own.

Feeling somewhat trapped, he began to struggle with Thorin trying to pull away from him which only caused him to stumble falling onto his back Thorin crashing down on top of him their contact was broken but only for a moment. Thorin took Thranduil's face in is large strong hands and once again pressed their lips together.

Thranduil growled deep in his throat at the audacity this dwarf had for practically forcing this contact. He could feel Thorin's thumbs gently caress his cheeks before he firmly took hold of Thranduil's jaw squeezing it roughly forcing him to open his mouth the heat of Thorin's tongue shot past his lips. He felt Thorin's other hand placed on the back of his head, tangling in his hair, which once again trapped him in this kiss.

Thranduil stilled somewhat finding himself unable to resist the urge to respond to the talented and insistent month upon his own, his first instinct was to bite Thorin but he found allowing it was much better alternative. Thorin's mouth was so hot, he tasted like cinnamon and fire, his beard brushing against his face which was a very new and strange sensation…this wasn't terrible, in fact he found it rather enjoyable as he raised his own hands into Thorin's chocolate tresses and now fully kissing him back.

 

* * *

 

 

Thorin felt the roll of surprised breath hitting against his skin as he smashed their lips together, which made every inch of his skin tingle with a new found thrill and excitement jolting down his spine and crashing against his head.

He sucked in a breath of his own and brought his hands up, cupping Thranduil’s cheeks—gently at first but gradually increasing the pressure while his mouth lapped over Thranduil’s own, tasting the sweetness which seemed to be pouring out of the elf.

His kiss got intense. His lips began sucking on Thranduil’s alternatingly before shifting to the corner of the elf’s mouth where he made light suckles, again concentrating fully on his lips thereafter. His tongue traced the inner lining of Thranduil’s lips, brushing it gently, teasing it so as to make Thranduil invite him in for more sweetness to explore.

His heart leapt in pure joy when he felt a light shiver coming off from the other as a result of his action and the little parting of mouth he did was all Thorin needed. Without letting such a chance go to a waste, he slid his tongue inside and clashed it against that of Thranduil till he won the battle for dominance. The heat in between his legs was gradually increasing, the pace of his heart erratic and wild, bursting with a held-back desire of claiming the gorgeous being that stood before him.

Suddenly, Thorin gasped in the kiss when he felt a cool tongue playing against his own, followed by the slight tip of the other’s head. Thranduil was responding. He was enjoying.

Encouraged, Thorin now pressed his body against the other even more, his legs parted slightly, locking Thranduil’s knees when he pressed himself again, enjoying the feel of a warm body beneath him. His groin caressed that of the elf. As a result, it throbbed in a delightful pleasure sending jolts of electricity down Thorin’s spine, while it itself got harder and harder with every fleeting moment.

Thranduil for a moment thought about putting a s stop to all this, who knows what kind of motivation was driving either of them and it could end badly if it continued much longer but all those thoughts were completely lost when Thorin pressed his groin hard against Thranduil's making him gasp.

Thorin was hard, he could easily feel it, pressing hard against his own member making him moan a little for the thrill that Thranduil seemed to have this effect on Thorin. But Thranduil himself wasn't immune to this desire building between them, this heat seemed to be scorching his very soul, everything so hot, Thorin's body, his kiss, tongue, so very hot Thranduil thought he would burn to ash at any moment…but he wanted these flames to continue lapping at his flesh.

As if Thorin heard his very thoughts he began to trail down his neck, he pulled hard on Thranduil's tunic ripping the delicate fabric so he could access more of Thranduil's flesh a hot tongue leaving a wake of fire across his skin. Thranduil's heart beat quickened as did his breath and he gripped Thorin's shoulders tightly, it had been long since he had been touched in such away, treated any way other than a porcelain doll that would break if handled too roughly…he hated being treated as such and craved this primal hunger from Thorin.

 _Hold me tighter, kiss me harder, use me!_   Thranduil's thoughts were debauched but he didn't care, he felt his tunic give way a little more the tear becoming wider as did Thranduil's smile.

The sound of Thranduil’s moan fuelled a fire already burning in his heart. Thorin felt wild, he felt like a beast wanting release, wanting his claim what seemed like a perfect match for his very nature.

He pressed himself again, almost ramming against Thranduil, as if to try and take him through the barrier of clothes if he could help it. A carnal instinct awoke in him and it roused up a storm so great within him that was not to be quelled till Thorin had what his heart and mind desired. Impatience building up within him, he left Thranduil’s mouth, dragging his lips and teeth along the lining of his lips and throat, down to his collar bone and at the edge of his shoulder before Thorin felt the softness of a fabric.

With a deep growl, his hasty hands ran up and down Thranduil’s arms before finally taking hold of the offending piece of cloth, tearing apart roughly before his tongue and teeth ravaged the beautiful pale skin with many nips and suckles.

More sounds followed of fabric being torn, as more of Thranduil’s smooth chest was exposed. Throin’s hands ran all over the smooth yet firm area, feeling the tautness of Thranduil’s nipples, the firmness of his sternum before it wandered down to his stomach and in between his thighs where they made little circling motions.

Thorin’s mouth found its way to the hard pink flesh, teasing it with his teeth, almost crossing the border of gentleness when his now hardened member rested against Thranduil’s inner thighs, smacking him with waves of pleasure.

Suddenly, he broke apart and in a fluid motion, grabbed a fistful of Thranduil’s hair and threw him onto the rich fur splaying on the floor. Before Thranduil could even react, he threw himself down on the elf and pressed his body more, tangling his fingers in the golden mesh as his mouth explored Thranduil’s own mouth restlessly.

He looked up. Thranduil was gazing back at him. His bright orbs were hazed with lust, shining with a desire of his own which Thorin detected easily. Desire was bubbling in his heart. His mind was clouded with nothing but pure lust and wants to claim the other. His body was flushed and hot. Heat pooling between his legs, his member which had been throbbing with a dull ache now experienced pain of a greater extent. Pleasure burned in him. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to take Thranduil then and there.

Thranduil gasped when Thorin's hand hovered momentarily over his own erection before he began to tease with light motion but not nearly enough friction t satisfy him, he wanted to thrust upward to gain more contact but his legs were trapped by Thorin's at the moment so he could only moan softly in distress.

The moment was blessedly short lived as he was thrown a little further inside the tent, onto rich furs that blanketed the floor near the bed, he made the motion to sit up but he was roughly pushed back down almost instantly, Thorin tangled his hands in Thranduil's hair pulling hard to crane his neck backward to kiss the exposed skin on his neck before pulling again to bring their mouths together once more.

Thranduil pushed his hand in-between their bodies as he grabbed Thorin in-between his legs, squeezing and rubbing him through the doe-skin seeming to devour every sound the Thorin moaned behind their sealed lips. Thranduil's other hand was not idle, he was working on the ties and buttons of Thorin's tunic wishing so desperately to disrobe him as well as himself but not wishing to end any contact to achieve this.

Thorin threw his head back, allowing a guttural sound to escape his throat at the sheer pleasure and hotness exploding throughout him. The feel of eager hands fondling him, rubbing him, _touching_ him made the pain even sharper, sending stabs through his heart in pure want of release.

He breathed heavily, trying to contain himself only to groan in delight the moment after when Thranduil’s nimble fingers brushed against his skin, undoing his tunic. Taking it as a lead, Thorin’s own hands freed the remainder of Thranduil’s shirt from his body before proceeding to remove his breeches. Deliberately, his palms rolled against Thranduil’s hardening member before clenching the piece of clothing at the other’s waist, roughly yanking it down till it gathered at Thranduil’s ankles. He did not bother about removing it all the way through. Thranduil’s own kicks and rubs were more than enough for the job to be taken care of.

However it was not all which the action had achieved. Feeling the elven king _writhe_ beneath him brought torrents of emotions within Thorin’s heart which fought vehemently, trying to establish dominance over the other. It was all that Thorin could withstand. His heart was pierced by every bit of thrill grasping him; his eyes began seeing nothing but a hazed version of those long limbseagerly parting for him. Breathing heavily, Thorin finally took hold of Thranduil’s hips and positioned him accordingly before he drove a finger in the elf. Immediately, he let out a grunt of satisfaction at the feel of muscles tightening around him.

Thranduil was so hot and tight. It was as if he had never been taken before. Perhaps...he hadn’t at all!

The very thought drove Thorin to the brink of an exciting madness. That he was Thranduil’s very first pleased him extremely, making his blood flow with such a rush that invigorated him. He pushed another finger, grunting in his throat as it pushed through the tight walls, sending waves of pleasure throughout his body. It was soon followed by another one, stretching the inner walls and making it large enough for Thorin to fit in.

At last, Thorin took out his fingers and pushed himself within. His member hurt all the more at the feel of tightness surrounding him and as he pushed deeper and deeper with many groans and hot exhales, he found himself nearing the brink of release.

Thranduil couldn't help but hiss in pain when Thorin forced his fingers inside him, he wasn't oblivious to the fact they had no oil or lubrication of any kind but that did little to lessen the intense pressure, it hurt more than he cared to voice out loud, pain was simply part of the equation that he would endure. He forced his body to relax and allow this intrusion his entire frame trembling in anticipation of what was to come next.

He had shared moments with his brothers in arms but he had never allowed them to privilege to dominate him, Thranduil took great delight in both young maidens and seasoned warriors but now the role, he was so comfortable in, was reversed yet he didn't feel the need to combat Thorin for it…once the initial pain subsided it felt too marvellous to not explore it further.

When Thorin did enter him his back arched and a scream being lost in his throat, he was unable to resist the urge to try and pull free but Thorin pulled him back instantly further imbedding himself inside when he did so. Thranduil's legs curled up, instinctively wrapping themselves around Thorin's waist as Thranduil gripped his biceps hard his nails digging into the muscles in the effort to relive this fire building inside Thranduil's gut, his own member straining against his stomach and weeping with need.

"More." He managed to breathe against Thorin's ear, his own breathing making it difficult to form words.

Thorin trembled and let out a strangled voice when he felt nails digging into his skin. It stung and burned with a low sear, twisting his insides again and again as ecstasy began building within him. And when he felt Thranduil’s hot breath against his ears and whispers of lust, he couldn’t help but shudder in joy which turned to more pants when Thranduil’s legs circled him. He graspedThranduil’s member, unable to suppress a light groan when it felt extremely hard and taut against his palm. He began stroking, hard and slow at first but soon, he increased the rhythm with an urgency arising out of sheer impatience.

He raised his hips slightly, pulling out his member only partially, before he rammed back in again. He repeated once more, then another time, another—his pace slowly increasing as did that of his pants.

His eyes fluttered close at the friction he felt against his flesh. It was hot, tight, constricting, uncomfortable yet so perfect which churned all sense out of Thorin’s already bleak mind. He pushed and pulled, thrusting deeper and deeper within Thranduil, relishing each time he felt the other bucking his hips and rocking it along with Thorin to match him in this erotic dance.

Sweat sheeted his skin, droplets gathered on his brow, his breaths became shallower and shallower, wet with lust and desire. The pang in his heart grew sharper, and the fire which burned within it now spread all throughout Thorin’s body, consuming him and burning him with the intent of satisfying his yearn. His eyes were becoming hazier, sounds grew muffled, a whiteness was now starting to dawn in his eyes.

When Thorin grasped Thranduil's member and matched each stroke with the same rhythm as his hips as the movements became faster, longer, harder, it was almost too much and it took all of Thranduil's will power to hold himself back just a little longer, let this passion be prolonged. With each moment Thranduil thought himself to be undone but he held on, writhing in pleasure underneath the heat that blanketed him and threatened to explode at any moment like an active volcano near eruption.

He felt teeth graze his neckline a hot wet tongue tracing the shell of his ear, nibbling and sucking upon the tip sending Thranduil over the edge. He couldn't suppress his scream, his back arching completely off the floor his head thrown back as stars exploded behind his eyes, blinding him as his body constricted and convulsed in the mix of pleasure and ecstasy overwhelmed all other senses.

Thorin lifted his face when he felt something hot and liquid streaming into his palm. A smile ghosted on his lips when Thranduil’s ecstatic screamed filled the tent as the elf writhed and lifted himself off the floor with ample vigour and energy.

It was all that took for Thorin to reach the peak of his climax. His ears blocked out any sound. All he could hear was a sharp whistling ring that pierced his heart and mind as well. His eyes could not see anything but a blinding whiteness, his mind drew blank and his heart felt like exploding with pleasure. Finally, he came. His body convulsed and trembled as mixed feelings of relief and thrill circulated within him. He felt multiple jolts of lightening running from his legs and up into his head while his essence filled Thranduil completely from the inside. His lips parted and something came out from his throat—screams but whether wordless or not was beyond Thorin’s capacity to comprehend at that moment. For during that time, he felt that he was blessed with divinity. He felt such a bliss which only the Mahal could grant him.

Slowly, his quivers lessened. The piercing sound in his ears was dying down. His vision came out from the hazy veil shrouded over it. His mind was becoming clearer once more, his breathing calmed, heart relaxed, and Thorin grew lax, dropping on top of the other as relief washed him over.

He stared into Thranduil’s face for some time, revelling in those starry bright eyes which were now gazing at him. Unwittingly, Thorin drew in a deep breath. Thranduil had his hair splayed about his head like a cascading river of gold. Gentle rays of the sun—filtered by the fabric of the tent—caressed his skin, rendering golden hue which looked splendid against the shimmer of sweat covering him. And his lips...his lips were so moist like fresh dew-covered leaves, which Thorn found absolutely breathtaking.

Gently, he pressed his lips against the other, drawing him in a sweet and subtle kiss full of love and promises. After a while, Thorin relaxed beside the elf and was smoothly lulled to a state of sleep as his lips moved with whispering words.

_I am in love with you. I love you so much._

Thranduil was about to relax as well rest off the exertion but those softly spoken words made him freeze as bewilderment swept over him as he looked at Thorin utterly confused.

"What?" Thranduil asked making sure Thorin heard him. "What did you just say?"

Thorin blinked opened his eyes, but at the bewildered look on the other’s face, all his exhaustion was quickly forgotten and he frowned in confusion of his own.

Had he...had he said it out loud? Was it not...what Thranduil wanted to hear?

Figuring it was too late and pointless to lie, he said with extreme honesty, “I have fallen for you. It is not a fleeting fancy. Else I would have not engaged in this act.” He paused a little, feeling a chilling sense of panic when Thranduil’s state of surprise now moulded into an expression of displeasure.

His eyes shone with horror. Thranduil consented...then why was he not happy? Was he displeased? Was he disgusted?

“What I feel is true,” he went on again, hoping against hope that Thranduil would see that it was not at all a game for Thorin; that his intentions were pure. “It is against our customs to conjoin casually, you now that!”

"Had I known, I wouldn't have done this," Thranduil said standing and began to dress a little hastily now concerned with the turn of events. Thorin loved him? How could he possibly love him he didn't even know him, what was he thinking?! Thranduil's wife had released him of the responsibility of celibacy when she sailed to the Valinor, he was freed to seek love if he so wished…but he wasn't seeking anything in this situation with Thorin.

"I don't…I don’t love you." Thranduil said looking at Thorin he knew his words were harsh but he didn't want to leave any room for interpretation or for Thorin to get the wrong idea. "This was nothing if not casual, I'm sorry if you misread signals but I did not initiate contact…I merely responded to it."

He paused momentarily feeling a slight twinge of sympathy for the look of pure shock on Thorin's face. “I cannot return your feelings."

“Had you known...?” Thorin repeated after Thranduil, his face being drained of all the colours as a cold stab of reality assaulted his heart. His voice felt extremely choked by a tight lump in his throat.

He breathed out again and again, trying to soothe a sharp ache in his chest that only escalated as he looked up and came face to face with a cold face staring down at him.

“Surely you do mean that?” Thorin asked with last shreds of hopefulness, looking up at the other and searching in those icy eyes traces that would prove Thranduil’s words as lies and nothing more. But when it didn’t, Thorin’s eyes wiped away the shock and smeared themselves with anger arising out of pain and betrayal. His face schooled into a serious expression and after simply staring towards the other, he asked grimly, “Why can you not? Do you seek power? Do you seek riches?” He paused again, and this time when he spoke, his eyes flared with a cruel revelation, “Or are you shamed by _frolicking_ with a homeless dwarf?”

“Wasn't seeking anything." Thranduil said shaking his head. "I hold no shame in this act whatsoever, not for who I was with or for why I was with, I did this because I wanted to and that’s all there is to it." Thranduil said about to leave but stopped to look intently at Thorin.

“Power and riches? You make it sound as if those things could buy my heart, I already hold the title of King and have a wealth worthy of envy…your status as homeless, prince, king, none of that matters where love is concerned. You're young and your feelings admirable but my answer is still no." Thranduil said.

“Surely it matters to some level,” Thorin retorted back with an eerie calmness to his voice. His eyes were now darkening as his pride took on a huge and cruel blow being denied Thranduil’s feelings. Had he been rational, he would have seen what Thranduil meant. It was indeed unnatural for someone to fall in love that quickly...yet Thorin had! Yet he was not rational.

Dark thoughts bubbled in his mind, igniting an anger which aimed at wiping away the shattering pieces of his heart. The elf made fun of his feelings, he took Thorin as nothing but a hopeless failure. Then again, he was a failure. Thorin was unable to save his home, his people, his kin. He failed at standing by them as they perished. He failed as a prince, he failed as a Durin...but he wouldn’t fail in love.

Thranduil wanted power. No matter how much the elf spoke otherwise, Thorin _knew_ what he truly wanted and lusted after. Power. Position. Slowly he lifted himself up the floor and began clothing himself. He called Thranduil back and this time, when the other turned his attention at him, Thorin spoke with every bit of authority and pride he had in him.

“You threw away my love so easily. And for what? But you do well to remember, one day I _will_ reclaim Erebor. I _will_ reclaim my throne and a day will come when it is _you_ who will beg for my help. A day will come when it is _you_ who will love me and crave for mine. And if you do not, I will _make_ you.”

And those would be the last words Thorin would ever speak to Thranduil till they would meet again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: We only own the plot, unfortunately, not the characters :(
> 
> AN: We would take the time to thank every one of you who have commented/kudo'd/subscribed to our fic. Thank you very much for providing us encouragement!

Thranduil stood upon the balcony that overlooked the vast forest and in that distance stood the lonely mountain, there were few places within the palace that one could look outside this particular place seemed to hold the more spectacular view. He could see smoke and light in the distance but it wasn't from some dire force, it was a celebration of the dwarfs retaking the mountain once more, Erebor being rebuilt and nearing completion, the fires and crafting once more commencing, a community that would once again thrive and succeed for generations to come.

Thranduil sighed as he turned away from the sight and walked the long path back to his own rooms and into his study. The winter had been particularly devastating on Mirkwood, not to mention the losses they incurred as a result of the Battle of the Five Armies. True they were not the only ones struggling, the race of men were struggling to rebuild their own home after the devastation...but that left no room for trading with the woodland realm. Thranduil had allowed himself to rely too much on Laketown but not that he no longer could count upon them for supplies and rations, he would have to make amends with Erebor.

He wasn't above asking Erebor for help, he had come to the realization long ago that he would do anything for the sake of his people and this was no different. He had received a letter from Erebor earlier that they would receive him and a small entourage of guards but he found himself hesitant to make the journey. If the need wasn't so great he would do whatever necessary to avoid it. Their last meeting had Thorin locked in his dungeon and before that...Thorin had confessed to him the he loved him, but Thranduil couldn't accept those feelings or return them, the declaration Thorin made still fresh in his mind about _making_ him, it concerned Thranduil. However all these facts were enough for Thranduil to make the situation worse, he would go to Erebor, he would see Thorin again...he had to.

 

* * *

 

 

Thorin sat on his lavish throne, carelessly listening to the monotonous presentations which were given to him by his council members and advisors regarding their new trade routes and items to be traded. It was all important, however at that very moment, Thorin had half a mind to concentrate while the other half of his mind was busy reminiscing over the events which had unfolded in the last few years.

Desperate and heartbroken, Thorin had spent his days gruelling in the darkness of the forest as well as that which shrouded his mind. For days after, he could not get over the losses he had suffered—innocents who had died, countless of those who had been made homeless and were spending their days Mahal knew where! He had lost his family, his friends, his home—everything! Even what he believed to be his love who never even gave him a chance.

But he escaped. Somehow managed to find his way out of the forest and  by Mahal’s grace, after wandering aimlessly, he did reunite with thirteen of his kin, out of which, two were his own blood. His nephews. From that day, there was no looking back.

They found shelter in Dale where Thorin worked as a blacksmith. He forged weapon after weapon and as more days went by, the more resolute he became. The streak of hopelessness which he felt was blearing away. He was growing stronger. His heart was becoming tougher and braver and finally, when the time was right, he called upon his kin to embark on a maddening quest. And much to his pride and delight, thirteen answered.

And with the help of a certain hobbit, he had finally fulfilled a promise he had made to himself and to others. He had taken back Erebor. He had claimed his home.

However, even when this noble quest was in his mind, at the back of it, there was always the memory of _that_ day when he wore his heart on his sleeve and how it was cruelly shattered by one who had no regards for his emotion. Even to this day, his blood boiled at the very remembrance. Tharnduil used him.  He knew well enough that dwarves never frolicked. He knew well enough what it meant for them to share a night. Still, Thranduil went along and when Thorin confessed, Thranduil threw away the confession and Thorin’s love as if it was nothing but a worthless thing, disgusting to the eye!

Back then he was vulnerable. He was homeless, powerless. But now, the tables had been turned.

Mirkwood needed him. Thranduil needed him. And Thorin would make sure to instil that very fact into the elf’s mind—one way of the other.

 “Sire, they have arrived.”

He was soon broken from his trail of thoughts by the call of a guard. His eyes narrowed when anger shot up in his heart once more, the memories, the heartache rushing back in.

“Should I show them in?” The guard asked.

Thorin stood up and nodded. His eyes were growing darker. Anger bubbled in his heart and as the events of that particular day flashed again and again in his head, Thorin’s promise to Thranduil became firmer and firmer.

“Bring them in. But only he who will speak the terms.” He said in a deep voice. He looked once at the advisors, motioning them to leave the throne room before once more gazing down at the guard. He went on and this time as he spoke, his voice became colder and grimmer as his eyes flashed with something that was not seen till Bilbo tried handing away the Arkenstone. “The rest stay outside.”

Thranduil frowned when the guard insisted that his King would only allow him an audience, if his guards were not to be allowed why did Thorin say to bring them? Not to mention Thranduil felt safer with them in-tow it would keep Thorin and himself from bringing up times and memories best forgotten...but Thranduil knew Thorin had not forgotten, he wouldn't be surprised if Thorin used this situation as leverage to make good on his promise so long ago. This was the only reason why he hesitated as he had before.

He looked to his guards. "Make a suitable camp close by, I cannot hasten these talks. However I will keep you informed of the progress." Thranduil said. A few council members were with them as well and he knew this was not a suitable arrangement for them but it wasn't as if they could force themselves inside. He would request later his entourage be accommodated, but it would have to wait.

He was shown inside and he made his way down the long straight path toward Thorin's throne. Thorin looked different in Thranduil's eyes, not the lost prince in the forest or the haughty dwarf on an unimaginable quest...he looked like a King, strong and proud...the throne definitely suited him and Thranduil found it surprising. Thranduil had a distinct memory of how their positions had been reversed not so long ago, but now it was Thorin who stood upon the throne and looked down upon him. Thranduil bowed his head only slightly, enough to show an adequate amount of respect but still retain his pride as a King in his own standing.

If Thranduil thought Thorin would agree he would have invited him to Mirkwood, but he knew that the new King would not leave his home so soon after reclaiming it so Thranduil was to one to make this journey. Thorin knew what Thranduil wanted he explained all in his previous letter which was probably the only reason he agreed to meet with him but even with this hopeful rendezvous it still left Thranduil with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he couldn't shake.

"I am humbled that you have agreed to meet with me King under the mountain." Thranduil said.

Thorin was standing at the top of the steps leading to his throne, legs apart and shoulders drawn back—a stance that only shouted power and supremacy. He regarded the other by looking down at him and let his eyes sweep across Thranduil’s features.

Years had passed and yet the elvenking looked just as beautiful as he had when they first met in these very halls when Thrór was king.  Age had not touched or marred his beautiful features. Only the blackness of his heart did.

His eyes narrowed. The elf was humble. He was bowing down, he admitted his weakness...but that was not enough. What he had always wanted deep in his heart, Thorin suddenly found that same urge to surface, which was even more profound than before.

“And humbled you should be!” Thorin’s voice boomed in the vast hall, not even attempting to hide the pride and arrogance with which the words were spoken. “It is not known of people to help other people who have treated you so coldly in the past. Thrown in dungeons, waging war. You took advantage of Erebor’s weakness back then. Why pray tell should we not take advantage of Mirkwood?”

He wanted Thranduil to kneel before him. He wanted Thranduil to beg. The elf was a haughty one—Thorin had seen that. But Thorin was stubborn as well. And Thranduil would beg, He would see to it.

"If I recall correctly me and my people helped you fight a legion of orcs that would have destroyed you, I will not deny the fact of a desire to reclaim what was rightfully mine, and vanquishing those foul creatures undoubtedly was in Mirkwood’s best interest as well...but I never turned my sword to one of your own...if you have a grievance to request I will listen." Thranduil said keeping his voice calm and even, although the King before he practically screamed he would not allow his own emotions to get the better of him, he had to stay calm regardless of anything and everything...stay calm.

“And if _I_ recall correctly, ElvenKing, you and your people took the first opportunity you got to try and take the wealth which belongs to our kin,” he retorted smugly, relishing the expression on Thranduil’s face and willing to test it. He clearly saw how hard Thranduil tried to maintain his composure. It didn’t go unnoticed how much Thranduil restrained himself and he also knew that it was only a matter of time.

“Though that is hardly relevant in the current context of matters,” he dismissed the topic entirely as if it was nothing more than a trivial event which caused no great scar on Erebor’s history. His lips curled into a smirk at the look of Thranduil’s face who certainly took offense of disregarding Mirkwood’s fate as insignificant. “What is relevant is that what you expect me to do in this situation. You clearly seek trade and in simpler terms, you seek _money._  Your treasury is no better than a commoner’s and as much as it stings you, you seek some that I could spare you.” He paused, slowly descending down the stairs, just enough so that he still maintained his supremacy over the other. “You remember when you said you desired no wealth? Well...” he trailed off, smirking bitterly before he spoke, “You have been proved wrong twice. So tell me. How do you like it _now?_ How do you like being weak and dependent? To have your fate in someone else’s hands? To have your dreams and wishes in someone else’s hands? Not so proud now, are you, Thranduil?”

His eyes roamed over Thranduil’s whole form, flashing with anger and rage and a pure desire of subduing the other as his heart raced by the very thought of it. His thoughts grew darker and grimmer, venturing into possibilities that no one dared think about and the more he thought, more thrilling he found churning the idea over and over and over in his head. 

"I truly have no desire for wealth, it is a necessary evil that I endure but I do not expect you to give me your treasure, I can do without...it is the trade routes that I need, that my people need, I have no qualms about repaying you for your assistance, but it will require patience." Thranduil said he had not the money to pay them but he would make good on the debt if Thorin would only indulge him. It was true that Thranduil's own treasury was desperately low, he had always kept his fortune modest and only used the gold in trading but placing his soldiers in armor and weapons was very costly and he had not the ability t replenish the supply as of yet, partly due to the harsh winter and lake town being unable to spare anything in trade as well.

Thranduil stared back at Thorin stiffening somewhat when Thorin racked his eyes over him as he clenched his fist willing himself to remain calm. "You know as well as I that I am not weak." Thranduil said barely able to hide the slight growl in his throat. "Speak of what you want of me…what is it that you require for the trade items requested?"

The show of attitude caused Thorin to snap. In a whirl, he hurled forward till his face was dangerously close to the other’s. Grabbing Thranduil’s wrist, he spoke chewing every word while his face contorted to a gruesome snarl, “Weakness is not only shown in battle, _elf!_ Weakness is that which makes you fall.” His grip on Thranduil’s arms got tighter and tighter and the more Thranduil tried breaking free, stronger Thorin’s hold became with escalating rage which he felt at the elf’s insolence. “Your arrogance made you fall. Your inability to consider what people need made you fall and if you deny one bit of it, then you and I would not be standing here at this very moment!”

He released Thranduil with a violent jerkbut before the other could even react, Thorin’s arm snaked around Thranduil’s nape, locking it in place, forcing the elf to look at him as he spoke his words with extreme coldness that feigned his very character. “You speak of _my_ requirement? You speak of repaying _me_? Look around you! Look around the halls where you stand! Does it seem like it needs help from someone the likes of _you_? But it would cost you, as it had cost me. I am not patient, Elvenking. Not as you. For me, a hundred years span quite a long time. I would need you to repay the debt whenever I want you to.”

The coldness which had appeared now settled into an eerie composure as a slow smirk crept on Thorin’s lips. “But unlike you, I do not return people with their hopes shattered.”

He let his eyes roam over Thranduil once more. A carnal need was growing in him, consuming him, chanting in his mind and to have Thranduil at such a close proximity, it took all of Thorin’s will power not to act on what his instincts shouted out to him. He tipped Thranduil’s head by tugging his hair and as those azure eyes looked back at him with anger and hatred, Thorin’s entire form began titillating with anticipation and thrill which shone in his eyes as well. 

“So tell me, what _can_ you offer?”

Thranduil wanted to tear himself away from Thorin's grasp, but the dwarfs anger was escalating by the second and as much as it pained him he stayed in place allowing Thorin as good a look at him as he wanted. Paying off a debt more than once and whenever he wanted spoke of something with no monetary value or something that was priceless. Thranduil did not have much left of any type of value and Thorin knew this so why was he playing these games? Realization of what Thorin wanted troubled him but at the same time how was he to refuse? For the lives of his people he could oblige any demand made, even unreasonable ones.

"You said you loved me once." Thranduil said softly which seemed to catch Thorin off guard a she finally let go of Thranduil and took a few steps back. "You swore that this situation would come to pass and I would want for yours, return those feelings, and if I didn't you would make me…" Thranduil paused for just a moment to take a deep breath. "If I offer you the opportunity to make good on that promise will that be enough?" Thranduil asked, he had truly hoped that this offer would be enough. "Is this what you want?"

He did not expect Thranduil to bring up the past and yet when he did, Thorin couldn’t help suppress a shudder running through his body. He released Thranduil and stumbled back, only to regain his balance precariously. His stance faltered, images of that day flashed before his eyes. He remembered how ethereal the elf looked glowing by the fire’s light, how kind and gentle he had been. Thorin remembered vividly every touch, every moan, every moment he shared with Thranduil that very night...how his heart sang in love, how blissful he had felt after a very long time.

Suddenly, he snapped out of his thoughts, clenching his teeth and breathing rapidly as the moment later, he was faced with that which had transpired after he professed his genuine love for the other.

Thranduil cast him aside. He took no regard of Thorin’s feelings. He walked away! And for him to bring up that day..for Thranduil cheaply to manipulate Thorin’s emotion...it was more than enough for Thorin to discard the warm feeling he still felt lingering in his heart whenever he thought about the elf king.

The shock on his face slowly began moulding into a cold form of anger. His jaws became firmer and the hurt and grief which flashed briefly in his eyes soon faded away, a grimness taking its place.

Slowly he approached Thranduil once more. Once more he leaned so close that he could feel every breath of the elf hitting against his face as he said coldly with his lips dangerously hovering over the other’s, “You are in no position to offer _me_ any opportunity. You will do well to remember that.”

Just when it seemed like he would claim Thranduil’s mouth, Thorin drew away and his face was set back to his usual indifferent and proud mask as he looked down upon the elf yet again.

“As for your repayment, I will decide when and how it shall be made. For now, get out. You will be shown to your quarter but you alone shall be allowed to stay till my say. Now go.”

Thranduil glared at him, this haughty dwarf, how quickly he had taken to his role as King and oppressor…and while Thranduil was grateful that he was at least considering his requests for trade, his pride had taken a slight blow when Thorin so blatantly rejected his offer, it was humiliating enough without the rejection.

He did not wish to stay longer than what was absolutely necessary. "No. I will lodge with my own." Thranduil said firmly about to walk away but his wrist was quickly seized by Thorin his grip like a vice the pressure seeming to increase with each passing second. Thranduil saw the flood of mixed emotions crossing his features only moments before but now they seemed purely fixated in anger. "Release me." He growled his anger finally showing full force, he could only stay calm so long.

Thorin saw red in his eyes when Thranduil had the gall of even thinking of dismissing him. He couldn’t believe the other’s pride! Even when he had nothing, even when he was under Thorin’s mercy, Thranduil still maintained his air of arrogance?

Thorin could tolerate it no better than he could tolerate liars. Just as Thranduil had spun around, Thorin’s reflexes acted automatically and in a quick motion, he gripped the other’s wrist twistly, spinning Thranduil with such a roughness making him stumble and fall at Thorin’s knees. Though before Thranduil could even hit the floors, one of Thorin’s arms grabbed hold of his shoulder while the other viced around Thranduil’s chin, forcing him to look up and face him.

“I believe you have no saw in the matter,” he said through gritted teeth, his voice dangerously low and dripping with his basic desire of subduing Thranduil to his fundamental core. His lips brushed against Thranduil’s and he inhaled deeply, his heart fluttering with an odd sense of thrill and anxiousness as the familiar rich scent invaded his senses. “Now if you do not want my favours, you are free to walk away. But have this in mind: if you want the best for your people, you will do as I say. If not...then it will not be famine or draught neither will it be the harsh winter which will atke their lives.”

 He felt Thranduil squirming initially but going rigid after a while. Thorin had seen enough to guess that however strong Thranduil’s willpower was, Thranduil was struggling extremely not to do something drastic which would invoke Thorin further. But Thorin would see how long they could play. Thranduil loved games. He loved toying with feelings...and now, he would get the taste of the same. Thorin would ensure it.

He stared down into the other’s eyes, face still inches away from Thranduil’s own, taking in the way they shone with varied emotions that reflected the damage Thranduil had suffered to his massive ego. But that was not all, no. Beneath the haughtiness, Thorin could also sense something else which was flowing like an underneath Thranduil’s arrogance.

"Release me." He said his voice hard his eyes glaring back at Thorin with ice cold contempt for the other. He wanted to strangle Thorin for disrespecting him like this, the hot lips that brushed against his own making him want to recoil and respond at the same time…damn him, everything would be so easier if they had never crossed paths Thranduil didn't really regret any of his actions but he was reaping what he had sown.

Thorin let go in which Thranduil took several steps back away from the other. Thranduil knew at that point he really did have no choice so he simply nodded and allowed himself to be shown to a room. It was a rather nice room, lavish and adorned beautifully but Thranduil found himself unable to appreciate its beauty his mind to focus on Thorin's decision and what he would want in return. He sat down on the fur rugs in front of the hearth where a small fire was burning…it reminded him so much of that small fire and warm tent he and Thorin had shared so many seasons ago. Thranduil had been compassionate then, he prayed Thorin would be able to show that same compassion.

* * *

 

Thorin punched his fist roughly against a wall, eating it, pounding it repeatedly as a means of taking out his frustration. He did not know what it was which made him furious. He had no reason to be, in all honesty. Thranduil was where he wanted him to be. At his mercy, begging for his favours, subduing to him.

Still, why was it that he found no peace?

Why even after showing him his patheticness, Thorin found himself growing more and more restless?

He groaned out, falling to the ground. A sharp hiss escaped him as pain shot through his knees. However, that pain was secondary compared to what he felt in his chest.

Again and again, his mind went back to the very moment when for the briefest of time Thranduil was in his arms. Even now, after all that had transpired between them, Thorin’s body tingled at the feel of Thranduil’s hot breath hitting against his face. His heart jumped in ecstasy at the touch of his smooth complexion and whenever he was reminded of the softness of those warm and moist lips against his own, Thorin couldn’t help but feel a dull ache in his chest.

He let out a shuddering breath, bringing up a hand which gently curled over his heart.

The pain was still there. Wounds of betrayal, of cold rejection still stabbed him brutally, determined to curb out his heart whenever he was reminded of it...still, amidst all that, where he thought he would eternally hate Thranduil, now that he saw the other before him, his rage somehow mellowed out by the caress of his wishes. And even as he compelled himself to hate that elf’s guts, he still couldn’t help but feel a sting in his heart when he realized that he wanted his love as well.

 

The corridors were dark and empty, lit only by the torches placed at regular intervals. The soundlessness engulfing it was extremely thick, rendering all around an ambience which was eerie and tense, as if everything rested on very delicate grounds and the slightest of chaos could ruin it all.

Sound of footsteps echoed throughout the corridor, at which the guards outside Thranduil’s room glanced at each other and faced the direction of the sound with a straight face.

The beat of the steps were extremely familiar to them. They knew there was only one in this entire palace who would possess a stride so regal and so confident.

Their king.

Thorin stopped before the decorated door and wordlessly extended his arm. The guards glanced at each other once more before one of them handed Thorin a key. Taking it in his possession, Thorin nodded at them and motioned them to stand guard at a not-so-close-proximity.

Having known better than to ask the king’s intentions, the guards did as were commanded.

Thorin waited till the footsteps faded into a reasonable distance before he slowly inserted the key, turning it carefully till the door unlocked. He lightly placed a palm on the heavy oak door, pressing it slightly, making it to open soundlessly. As he entered, he blinked a few times, letting his eyes adjust to the muffled natural light which streamed through the heavily veiled. Slowly, his eyes became set. The darkness around him paled as the faint lines of the furniture now came to his vision.

He approached towards the bed cautiously, his heart beating gently with an odd pressure and an unknown purpose. He did not know why he was practicing so much carefulness, nor did he know what brought him to Thranduil’s chamber in the first place. But he remembered that an urge of doing so rolled over him so powerfully that he was unable to ignore this great wish of seeing the elf one more time.

He stopped suddenly, his mouth hanging ajar as he was met with one of the rarest sight he had ever seen.

The light was streaming in at an angle, falling on the slender figure of the elf who slept seemingly peacefully, illumination the sharp lines and curves of his body, rendering him a soft bluish glow that made him a sight too good to be true.

Thranduil discovered belatedly that although Thorin gave the pretense of him being a guest he was more like a prisoner, this room he now resided in had guards placed at the door and bars on the windows, he should have insisted to stay at the camp with his people, at least there he wouldn't be kept under lock and key. Although he was sure that if he actually wished to leave the guards couldn't do much to stop him if he was truly determined but if he did leave...they would not receive the aid they required Thorin had made that quite clear so he waited for hours before deciding that Thorin probably wouldn't come this day and he should try and rest.

Thranduil had heard the shuffling of footsteps outside long before he heard a key entering the lock of his door and someone coming inside. He stayed still though, he had been sleeping soundly although his senses were much too apprehensive with his current situation and the slightest noise tended to wake him, it took him hours to simply ignore the guards outside his door, but these footstep were louder, not to mention they never entered the room once, they had stayed outside the door. He heard the guards move further away as well, he could still hear them but he was almost positive they would not hear anything within this room.

He opened his eyes only slightly seeing Thorin standing by his bedside. "Have you come to a decision." He said seeming to startle Thorin a little, apparently he didn't realize he was awake. Thranduil sat up to fully register him hoping that the dwarf was not here to simply throw more insults...he had a knack for doing that.

When the suddenness of the voice disturbed the quietness of the room, Thorin jerked out of his stupor, berating himself for even falling into one the first place. However, the initial shock which grasped him soon wore off and his eyes softened with an indescribable emotion of awe and wonder. He followed every tiny movement which resulted in the elf gracefully sitting up and as he did, his heart leapt once more with a sudden skip of beat, small flames flickering within his chest as they warmed up his insides.

The elf’s words did not register properly in his ears and even if they did, their meaning got lost somewhere in Thorin’s own desires. He spoke but Thorin’s eyes were kept affixed on his lips which moved so beautifully that a tremendous desire overtook him, prodding him to simply fold his mouth over the other’s, enjoying his sweetness as he did all those days ago.

“I believe so,” he rasped before leaning towards Thranduil, tracing the bottom of his lips gently with his thumb. The warmth he felt in his heart now began spreading all over him, the dull ache he felt deep within suddenly made his heart pang only to be filled with a new kind of thrill causing Thorin’s skin to tingle with anticipation.

And before he could chalk up any rationality of his actions, he acted on his impulse, diving for the other, claiming his mouth into a demanding kiss.

Thranduil patiently awaited his answer, hoping that they could put an end o this power-play and be more diplomatic and amicable in their talks, he really had no idea what Thorin wanted so thins couldn't progress until he had an idea. He was about to speak again when Thorin leaned closer, his hand gently touching his face and tracing his bottom lip.  _What is he doing?_ Thranduil thought but it was soon interrupted when he was pushed backward on the bed, Thorin on top, with his lips pressed hard against his own.

Thranduil screamed into the kiss, pushing Thorin away from him, he managed to break the contact a few times but with every escape Thorin only found it justified to hold him down. Thranduil's wrists were being held with one large strong hand, another tangled in his hair so tight Thranduil thought it would tear his scalp but it was all to keep him still an allow this assault to continue.

Thranduil could feel Thorin's tongue trace his bottom lip silently asking for entrance but Thranduil locked his jaw at this point. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice, Thorin hated him for what had happened so long ago so why was he so desperately seeking another encounter like the last?

Thranduil's body twisted and turned under Thorin in the attempt to wriggle away and throw him off balance but it wasn't having the effect Thranduil hoped for, it only seemed to excite the other. The kiss intensified, Thorin pressing his face and body ever closer to Thranduil's as if he was trying to merge their bodies as one

 _To close!_   Thranduil desperately thought as it became hard to breath. He mumbled into the kiss tying to let Thorin know his distress but was ignored, his struggles became more frantic as he tried desperately to get air into his burning lungs. _Please stop!_ he pleaded with his eyes...but Thorin's eyes were closed.

Thorin tumbled off balance a little when he was shoved away by strong hands but he regained his balance very quickly, clumsily placing his knees on both sides of the elf before once more sealing their lips together. He grunted into the kiss when yet again he was made to break contact. However, instead of being caught completely off guard, this time with the slightest feel of a pressure on his chest, he leaned even closer, determined to cut off any space for Thranduil to push him away.

His lips suckled Thranduil’s soft ones, teased and taunted them gently using his teeth, hoping that Thranduil would give him a chance to explore him once more. But Thranduil didn’t oblige. Instead, the more Thorin’s tongue caressed the parting of his lips, more tightly Thranduil pressed them together, adamantly trying to keep Thorin away.

He breathed out heavily as Thranduil’s muffled protests entered his ears. He felt the elf writhing beneath him, contorting and fighting him in every possible way. Perhaps Thranduil had hoped to discourage Thorin, perhaps he had truly believed that Thorin would back away on his own if he made it impossible for Thorin to maintain the kiss. However, Thorin too was stubborn.

In response to Thranduil’s twists, he pressed their bodies closer together, letting his own weight limiting Thranduil’s window of movement while he slide a hand underneath which grabbed hold of the offending wrists. As the kiss deepened, Thorin unwittingly released Thranduil’s wrists. His hand glided over the other’s waist, enjoying the curve which was made by the bending of his upper body and knees before the ventured further downwards, smoothly tracing the lines of the other’s long limbs.

Thranduil’s movements became rougher. His breathing as hard, his mumbles became more incoherent and frequent and his chest heaved up and down so much that Thorin could actually _feel_ himself undulating in that very same rhythm.

His eyes shot open and a wild gasp escaped him as his face suddenly swung to his side while his cheeks throbbed with a slow and stinging pain. He drew back, his eyes widening in utter confusion trying to fathom exactly what had happened as he gently cradled his cheek.

Slowly, he turned towards the other and what he saw quickly evaporated the shock from his eyes, which narrowed the moment after as anger began bubbling in his chest.

Thranduil was breathing heavily. His eyes were gleaming with rage as he gradually lowered his arm to his side.

Realization dawned on Thorin and as it did, a sharp stab of hurt shot through his chest. His face crumpled with an unsaid grief before it disappeared within the blink of an eye. Anger slowly crept in and it took him a long while before he could even speak.

“What would it take?” He muttered in a daze before his eyes sharpened as if he realized that he gave away more than he had intended to say. “What would it take for you to understand? You have no say in anything! You had once but you didn’t utter a single word. And now when you _beg_ me for my favours, you have the galls to refuse me what you owe? Do you not remember our terms? Or did you forget where exactly you stand at the moment?” He asked again, this time more coldly.

Thranduil shook his head at Thorin slowly. Thranduil wasn't an idiot. He knew now this is what Thorin wanted, whenever he wanted but he was so weak to simply allow himself to be used like some toy until it became broken and no longer amusing.

"You don't want this..." Thranduil said softly, he could easily see how angry Thorin was, his muscles were tensed his jaw tight and his eyes burned with rage. "I cannot allow it, what happened years ago was a mistake on my part and I apologize although I know that it means nothing to you...you said it was against your customs to conjoin casually yet you wish to do so again?" Thranduil swallowed thickly. "You know I don't love you, and yet you are trying to force this upon me regardless...is it your intent? To rape me as some type of vengeance?"

Thranduil chose his words carefully, he needed Thorin to realize that the only way Thranduil would truly consent to this now was if he loved him, otherwise it meant nothing and it would always mean nothing.

Thorin was still breathing heavily through his nose. Each word Thranduil spoke was piercing him like sharp shards, twisting it mercilessly as again and again Thranduil pointed out that Thorin would always be a casual interest; a fleeting fancy. And at that, the pain he had shoved away at the deepest corners of his being resurfaced again only with double the intensity, thus making it unbearable for him to respond.

His eyes remained sharply locked with Thranduil’s own which seemed determined to lure Thorin in. Yet he refused to look away. Looking away would be taken as his weakness. Thorin was not weak. Not anymore. He had been once. Once, he truly was helpless and vulnerable. Once he let his weakness rule him; once he let Thranduil rule him...but not anymore.

His jaws unclenched and the tenseness which shrouded his whole body faded away as his muscles relaxed. The fiery stare he held began dissipating gradually till there was nothing but a cold and eerie gaze probing straight into Thranduil’s head.

Moments passed by as Thorin simply stared towards Thranduil with no sign of rage or emotion of any sort. His eyes were cool and calm, steadily holding Thranduil’s gaze while his mind began calculating something inwardly.

The air was strained with a dreadful silence. For what it seemed like moments, neither spoke, neither dared to look away from each other.

Then after what felt like ages, a corner of Thorin’s mouth tugged upwards as his eyes flickered with a spark while he realized that he held something. Leverage.

“Your people starve and I hold resources. Do not let your pride override your compassion. There will be many to suffer if you are not careful and I shall not be accountable for it. It will be your fault,” he said narrowing his eyes a little and in a tone which bore no traces of mercy. Ignoring the graveness creeping onto the other’s face, he turned and began walking out of the room. But before he exited, he looked over his shoulder and said with a formidable casualness, capable of making anybody’s stomach lurch at the words which came out of his mouth, “And as for our seriousness, we bear that to an obsessive level. So yes, I _shall_ do it. If I must.”

With that, he left.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Well, we still don't own 'The Hobbit', unfortunately.
> 
> AN: Sorry for the long wait! But here's the next installment and we are extremely encouraged by the feedback you guys provided. So thank you very much!

Thranduil found no rest in his chamber after Thorin had left him alone with his thoughts, his mind was spinning with the situation he had put himself into, and he prayed it would not affect the outcome of his people survival. Thorin didn't seem to understand that despite everything Thranduil _was_ trying his best to push his pride aside, to do whatever was necessary to save his people from grueling starvation and desolated homes, but his pride and arrogance had been ingrain into his  persona so deeply he acted as such without even realizing he was doing it...in all honesty he thought he was prepared to bend and bow to every one of Thorin's whims if that was what it would take but the very nature of the dwarf king forced Thranduil to turn away to reject him yet again, and these actions only seemed to anger Thorin further, the more Thranduil discarded him the harder everything would be...there had to be some way to make amends.

 

* * *

 

The next morning Thorin had requested that they eat the morning meal together in his private dining room and although exhausted from not gaining any sleep, Thranduil didn't wish to entice Thorin's anger further by once again rejecting him, so he abided and joined him. The table had been set and it made Thranduil wince inwardly at the amount of food placed on a table that was meant for two...so much of this would go to waste and yet it could probably feed an entire family for a week! This couldn't be an accident, Thorin probably invited him here to show that they had enough to spare but it wasn't right...it was actually cruel.

Thranduil sat and allowed himself to be served but he couldn't bring himself to eat, he was hungry there was no doubt about that, but if he felt that he allowed himself to indulge in such a feast that he would only be disregarding his own people’s starvation. Thranduil's felt that his people’s fate should also be his fate and while they were still starving and living in less than poor accommodations he should suffer just the same if not more. After a moment the mere sight of the food was enough to make him sick and he couldn't stand the silence that shrouded the two.

"Please." Thranduil said softly. "Send the supplies we requested to Mirkwood, and  if it pleases you I will stay here as long as you wish, place me in chains and under constant guard if you want...whatever you want I will abide but not before my people receive your aid." Thranduil said strongly. "You keep reminding me that I have no right to refuse you and I owe you some type of payment for these favors but those favors have not been received so I owe you nothing and I have every right to refuse you...at least until you grant these...favors, I would owe you all." Thorin had leverage true enough but in all honestly Mirkwood had yet to receive any type of aid, so why would Thranduil tolerate Thorin in anything while his people were still suffering?

Thorin straightened in his seat when the door to the chamber opened, revealing the calm form of the only elf in Erebor. His eyes followed the measured steps which brought the other nearer and nearer and as their distance lessened, the coldness that resided in Thorin’s heart grew colder just as grimness overshadowed his eyes.

He didn’t fail to notice the hesitation radiating off from Thranduil as he seated himself facing Thorin. The elf’s eyes roamed over the food and flickered for a brief moment before sadness crept in, quickly masked by indifference.

He narrowed his gaze and observed, a crude satisfaction washing over him as he watched Thranduil recognizing what he once had and what he desperately needed. It brought him relief. It lessened the pain in his heart and why should it not? Once Thorin too was helpless. And Thranduil reminded him sharply that he was worthless and powerless—while Thranduil was a king and could do anything he wanted.

But now the tables were turned.

Quietly, Thorin began serving food, taking his time and placing one item after another on his place first and then onto Thranduil’s. He made sure that they had everything on the table—all kinds of starters, appetizers, main course that one could only dream of. They had vegetables, meat, lamb, chicken, the aroma of which filled the roam and the steam which came off from the piping hot food was enough to bring water to anybody’s mouth.

Without a word further, Thorin began eating heartily but still not crossing his manners as a king. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Thranduil getting stiffer and stiffer by the minute and as Thorin swallowed and started again, he could clearly see Thranduil struggling to restrain himself even if he was famished.

He finally lifted his head when Thranduil’s voice broke the tense silence which extended between them.

“You seem to forget,” he began with an air of indifference taking a sip from the wine glass, “We have had no formal discussions to your people’s needs. I am ready to extend a hand Elvenking but I am not so hearty to help your people without making sure my people don’t suffer in turn. Why else do you think we are here? Name your terms.”

Thranduil narrowed his eyes at Thorin, he had already received a letter informing him of what they needed and required, their requests were clearly declared! Did Thorin simply wish to shame Thranduil further by making him say it? It burned Thranduil to the core having to put up with this mockery! Not to mention if it was only himself suffering he would be more than willing to let himself starve to death rather than spend one more minute in Erebor!

Even when things were going well and there was not a care in the world Thranduil still found himself sometime hating being a King, it sounded good to an outsider but most did not know the sacrifices one had to make to ensure the lands prosperity and safety. Thranduil had made that small retreat in the forest so he could get away from all the politics and affairs…Thranduil wondered for a moment if Thorin realized that although it had ended badly it was probably the only time he had actually witnessed Thranduil's true face, and what made him happy was simply being able to live normally, if even for a moment.

Thranduil shook away those thoughts, the dwarf he took under his wing in the forest was gone, he had grown into a more powerful King now and one that was not terribly concerned for Mirkwood's plight.

"We need ration food supplies to get us through this upcoming winter, I will not ask for more than what is absolutely necessary, my people are already malnourished but we recover quickly. We have already begun to work our crops once more but they are only saplings, it will be an entire season before they bear anything edible…we need assistance to sustain ourselves until then." Thranduil swallowed. "Also there was much damage to the talans and cottages littered throughout Mirkwood by the orcs during the war…I have most housed in the palace for now however most wish to return home, it would be greatly appreciated if you would be able to spare building supplies, most that lost their homes are farmers and are needed to return to their lands so this famine will not happen again."

"It twisted Thranduil's insides to say these things but more so from the fact that it was true and less from admitting them to Thorin.

Thranduil paused for a short moment. "What are your terms?" He asked.

Thorin remained still and let his sharp eyes be transfixed on Thranduil’s face as the elf went on speaking. Even if he didn’t seem like it but he was listening. Each and every word which came out of Thranduil’s mouth, he kept them imprinted in his mind, relishing in his heart the absolute sound of helplessness which Thranduil’s professional tone failed to hide. The more Thranduil spoke, the more broken he became. His tone quivered, his eyes swam in unshed grief for his Realm and the bright blue eyes which strained themselves to stay cold and detached became even brighter as he looked at Thorin, desperation and plead falling from them.

It was evident that Thranduil admitted of Thorin;s power. It was clear that he acknowledged that Thorin had what he didn’t and that he was at his mercy. That with a single word coming from Thorin’s mouth, Thranduil’s world would be sheltered or shattered...exactly what was the case all those years back but with reversed roles.

When Thranduil finished speaking, Thorin inched forward. Propping his chin over the back of his folded hands, he spoke slowly as if deliberating something in his mind, “Obviously Mirkwood is in no position to render materialistic help.”

 His eyes narrowed dangerously with a darkness coming off from them and his voice grew grimmer by the second. His jaws tightened, his expressions changed and instead of the idealistic prince who set his gaze on Thranduil the very first time in these very halls, there was now a prince darker, prouder and stronger who wanted nothing more than to instil his true strength upon the one who insulted him greatly.

He slowly rose from his seat and slowly began walking over to Thranduil, circling him and stopping just behind the other. He leaned closer, gently tucking the bundle of golden tresses to one of Thranduil’s side revealing his smooth neck. Thranduil visibly tensed at that very action but Thorin ignored it entirely and said in a raspy tone, pressing his nose against Thranduil’s skin, his breath hitting the spot with every word that he spoke, “But then, Erebor does not need materialistic things. I don’t need them. So what _can_ you offer?”

Thranduil closed his eyes lightly, the brush of hot breath against his nape sent shivers down his spine and the words whispered so near to him with the cruel yet seductive tone made his tremble. He had been resisting this entire situation from the start but it seemed his walls that he spent centuries building had a weakness and Thorin exploited this weakness making it crash down in one fell swoop, there was not much Thorin would accept, a promise was not enough he would need something more tangible and material than words.

"I cannot read you mind dwarf King, although you have approached me numerous times wishing to engage me, even now you approach me…Is it me you want?" Thranduil asked turning to catch his gaze. "If that’s what you want you can have it, you need but say so. For as long or as little as you require and any way you wish." He leaned closer to Thorin so their lips would brush with every word spoken. "Will I be enough?" He asked.

Thorin felt himself growing tighter and stiffer as his eyes were captured by Thranduil’s piercing ones. The elf’s gaze was alluring, sending Thorin jolts of chills down his spine as they took in the dwarf, playfully shining with hints of desire and want. He let out a slow and measured breath when the other inched forward, his heart beating wildly and uncomfortably as heat slowly began gathering in the region between his legs. 

He inhaled deeply, taking in the familiar sweet scent which infiltrated each of his senses. His knees grew weak. His chest felt rummaged as if a great storm had destroyed every bit of peace within him. Thorin instinctively pressed himself against the other, pressing his mouth and nose, circling the seat so that now he was standing right beside Thranduil.

The elf seemed daunting. He turned his face so that there was a hair’s breadth between them as their lips hovered dangerously close to each other; so close in fact that Thorin felt Thranduil’s warm breath against his mouth before feeling the taunts of soft and warm lips against his own as Thranduil carelessly brushed them while he spoke.

Thorin fluttered his eyes close as the warmth between his legs slowly spread to his chest. His heart throbbed and ached with a feeling he long tried to suppress. He shifted his legs, pressing himself against Thranduil, burying his nose against the other’s neck, tangling a hand in those soft golden tresses while slowly bringing his face till his lips were brushing the corner of Thranduil’s mouth as his member grew hotter with a wild desire which overtook him.

Suddenly, his eyes shot open as his grip on the other’s hair tightened. He pulled Thranduil’s face back and tilted it by pulling down his hair. He heard Thranduil hiss in pain; he saw pain flashing in those orbs of blue but Thorin’s own eyes were too full of anger as he realized exactly what Thranduil was doing.

He was taking advantage of Thorin yet again.

“You lull me in nicely and you almost succeed.” He spoke with a strange darkness about him, pressing his lips and chin roughly against the other’s exposed neck. “But I do not frolic like you.”

He yanked Thranduil roughly, causing the seat to clatter against the floor, sending waves of echo throughout the vast chamber. “You know what I want, you know how I want it! So then how dare you to make a mockery of me again?”

He threw Thranduil down on the floor and before the other could escape, Thorin kept him in position by grasping Thranduil’s arms in a vice-like grip, smashing their lips together.

The kiss was far from being gentle. It was hungry, demanding wanting Thranduil to yield, wanting him to comply and when the elf refused to do so, Thorin grew more restless as he roughly suckled the other’s lips, nipping them, provoking them with his teeth so as to gain entrance by force.

He pressed himself against Thranduil’s body. Thranduil squirmed and writhed, trying to pull away but Thorin pressed down against him, letting his weight reduce Thranduil’s movement while he grew stiffer and hotter with lust and desire of taking Thranduil then and there.

He pulled away breathing hard and asked, “You think I want a fake encounter? You think me as low as you? You are _wrong_. My lust is not limited to your body. I want your heart as well. Can you give it to me or will I _take_ it regardless?”

“My heart is NOT something I can give, it has its own free will and your actions do not make it beat faster or burn in desire…you make it cold as ice with your actions. Despite your pledge to take it!" Thranduil yelled, he had become tired of repeating himself and after offering himself so freely to Thorin he seemed no closer to getting what he needed for his people and yet he had still subjugated himself in the attempt that Thorin might actually listen to him, might actually offer his help…for the moment thought everything seemed pointless he simply couldn't give Thorin what he wanted it wasn't that he wouldn't if it was possible, if he was able he would give Thorin anything he desired.

Thranduil closed his eyes lightly his body going limp as he resigned himself to his peopled plight, coming to terms with the fact that half the population might not survive much longer, and the other half would suffer terribly just to live…he was wasting time here.

"I apparently have nothing to barter; the one thing you desire is not an acceptable or reasonable trade…" He made a motion to try and at least move away but the pressure on his arms only increased so he stilled himself, he wasn’t exactly sure on what more there was for them to discuss but Thorin didn't seem too ardent on letting Thranduil walk away just yet.

“Was it ever warm, I wonder!” Thorin retorted harshly, his nostrils flared as he was so blatantly rejected. “And yes, how could I forget? I was subjected to your free will, you despicable being! How nicely you interchange ‘frolic’ with ‘free will’. Puts all those great thinkers to shame!”

His breathing increased and through his nose as the air came out, it sounded so harsh no less than an unforgivable storm. He felt the rolling of muscles beneath him at which, he clenched his jaws and pressed down against Thranduil’s wrists, forcing the elf to stay where he was and where he should’ve been.

Beneath him. Under him. Succumbing to him.

It was a great satisfaction to have Thranduil in that position. It was unmentionable, true but the power...the great surge of raw power Thorin now felt flowing through him was so huge that it invigorated him. And as he looked down to meet Thranduil’s gaze, he clearly saw defiance shining vibrantly in the other’s eyes which glared back at him, daring him to push his own boundaries while at the same time restraining the concern which was more than once peeping in and out of the arrogant wall.

It was that moment when Thorin realized what he really wanted. His eyes darkened and a treacherous smile crawled on his lips as he said with a low and grim voice, “But I do not intend on establishing an acceptable or reasonable trade.

He lowered himself down further so that now his lips were hovering over Thranduil’s and in a low rumble, he said ominously, “I claim what is mine. Surely you know that by now.”

 Before Thranduil could even react, Thorin clamped Thranduil’s wrists even tighter and crashed his lips against the elf’s, hungrily claiming it; biting and nipping it enjoying every sound of pain that Thranduil made.

His heart was now racing it a thrill he had been suppressing in the darkness of his bedchambers. His whole body tingled with an excitement that he felt each time he had dreamt of this moment in his darkest of dreams where Thranduil would cry in pain, writhe in pain, _plead_ to him! He would hurt, he would succumb and he _would_ acknowledge Thorin as the powerful being rather than the frail one he had so brutally rejected all those years past.

It was an amazing sensation and now that he was so close, now that he had Thranduil where he thought of having, he would not let this opportunity pass.

 

* * *

 

Thranduil fought desperately with the hold on his wrists as he tried just as urgently to pull his face away from Thorin’s. Those words the dwarf King spoke still running through his mind, had he really subjugated Thorin? Did he not want to be embraced that night? No, it was Thorin that approached him; Thranduil had actually submitted to the dwarf that night…he had wanted it! The memory of being held so tight, set aflame by the heat and passion flashed in his mind but the sensation of pain he didn’t recall and it brought him back to the reality of the situation he was now in.

The rough treatment was unfamiliar, it wasn’t just rough it was painful which forced him to try and thwart Thorin at every turn. When their lips clashed their teeth contacted, it cutting his lip which allow blood to seep into both their mouths the coppery taste making Thranduil grimace and fight with this once more.

Under normal circumstances he would have been able to stave Thorin off, but he was weak and malnourished the lack proper food and sleep had taken a hefty toll and he simply did not have the strength to put a stop to this, his attempts were pitiful, irritating at best…he was alone with this raging King with no avenue of escape. This simply wasn’t right! He claimed not to want a fake encounter but forcing one he had no qualms about…as long as it was real he didn’t seem to care if it was consensual or not.

The more Thranduil squirmed under him, more Thorin felt himself getting energized. He was trembling with pure excitement as a hand traced over Thranduil’s chest, ripping the clothing as his lips ravaged Thranduil’s already bruised ones. He brought his free hand and squeezed Thranduil’s chin and the side of his cheeks, forcing the other to loosen his mouth so that Thorin would be allowed in. However, Thranduil was as stubborn as a mule. Despite the tremendous ressure Thorin was applying, he fought hard and kept his mouth shut, prompting Thorin to bite Thranduil’s lower lip roughly. He heard a sharp hiss enter his ears followed by a warm, tangy taste of blood. But where under normal circumstances Thorin would’ve paused in his ventures, the events made him invigorated as he practically dove in Thranduil’s mouth clashing tongue and teeth recklessly and sucking away the sweetness which was the elf’s very essence.

Heat pooled in between his legs; his member slowly began to grow stiff as lust clouded his eyes and mind. Thorin pressed himself between Thranduil’s legs, using his own to forcefully part them as the blasted elf uselessly tried to protect himself.

Without a word, he broke the kiss and flipped Thranduil over so that his hands were pressed between his chest and the floor. The elf made a move to escape or to fend Thorin off but Thorin was quicker. He used his hand to ensure Thranduil not being able to lift his head from the floor while the other which was free mercilessly tore away the rest of the clothing while his lips gently began suckling Thranduil’s pulse point.

Thranduil cringed as his head was pressed firmly against the hard floor, his hands trapped by the weight of his own body and Thorin keeping him in place as he continued this assault. Thranduil would have never thought him to be so cruel as to do this to another, it was pure idiocy! Thranduil had offered himself freely to Thorin and yet he seems to prefer this.

The pressure on his chest made it hard to breathe as he arched his back trying to relive his burning lungs and release himself but it didn’t work every time he gained any semblance of leverage he was simply pushed back down and it took twice as much energy to try and get up than to fall back down

It seemed almost pointless to keep struggling but he refused to let this moment pass without a fight, to lie down and accept it, although inevitable he would still resist, he wouldn’t say a word, no sound of pain, he would hold back as much as possible from Thorin…if that was his only strength so be it.

Thorin caressed the side of Thranduil’s shoulder gently, pressing his lips in soft butterfly kisses, waiting for a sign—any sign that Thranduil was enjoying it. All he wanted to see was that Thranduil too _wanted_ this; that he too wanted _Thorin_. However, when no such reaction came from the other, Thorin’s heart began boiling with the underlying frustration which slowly gave into rage all the while Thranduil remained still.

There was no sign of love from Thranduil, no sign of compliance. There was only restraint and Thorin detested that. He detested the fact that Thranduil made it seem like he was the one who was enduring when it was Thorin who had lived through a world full of pain! The elf did not move, he did not protest, he did not plead...nor did he ask for more! Nor did he respond to the gentility! It was as if it to Thranduil, Thorin did not even exist.

Growling, he turned Thranduil over and when he came face to face with nothing but defiance in those blue orbs, Thorin’s mind went utterly blank. Red flared in front of his eyes, a great wallow of sadness and pain made his heart crunch and at that moment, all that kept ringing in his mind was that it made no difference to Thranduil; that he was invisible.

He suddenly jerked away from his trance as a sharp sound echoed throughout the chambers soon followed by a stinging sensation crawling all over his palms. His eyes fell on Thranduil whose face as still steely and cold, unmarred save for the red blotch on his cheek over which Thorin’s arm hovered. At that sight, Thorin saw red yet again. His breathing pace increased, matching with the erratic beats of his heart. The chants in his head grew and grew, numbing every senses and wits he had and before he knew it, he found himself slapping Thranduil again and again and again.

“Why do you make it so difficult” He yelled, running his hand through the other’s scalp where it curled around his strands, tugging it harshly to tip Thranduil’s head upwards, revealing his long slender neck. “Why do you make it seem like I am the brute and you are the pious saint? Why can’t you love me? Why did you share that night when you knew its consequences? WHY?”

“I am not infallible Thorin, I will make mistakes…and that night should have never happened and if I could change it I would but you know I can’t. I know I’m not a saint I never claimed to be one either however, was it not you who kissed me first? You instigated the contact I simply went along with it…you cannot place the blame entirely upon me…” Thranduil paused for a moment before he spoke again.

“Love you?” Thranduil couldn’t help but scoff at the very idea, Thorin was only moments away from forcing himself upon Thranduil, had just struck him across the face, still had him pinned down to the hard and cold floor. “Look at me and ask me again why I could never love you.” Thranduil said.

“Look at yourself and ask why you are here in this position the first place!” Thorin hissed sharply. He looked down once at the pinned form beneath him before he let out a frustrated sigh. He began loosening his grip while slowly lifting his own weight off Thranduil. He was well aware of sharp eyes following his every move, he was well aware of the ache that was making his chest throb and wrench with pangs of rejection but he had enough for the day.

As he was walking away, he reached into his attire and pulled out a piece of parchment. He crumpled it into a ball and threw it in Thranduil’s direction.

“What has been rationed so far,” he said looking over his shoulder briefly before averting his gazed and walking ahead. “I keep my terms, Elf. I give no false hope.”

Thranduil snatched the parchment and after smoothing it out and reading it he gave a soft gasp, for now what was being given would be enough…enough at least to stave off starvation, true that more was needed to allow the economy to get back on its feet but this was a tremendous help if nothing else.

“…Thank…Thank You King under the mountain.” Thranduil said as Thorin stopped to look back at him, his expression seemed a little surprised, did he expect Thranduil to not be grateful for this? Thranduil pulled on his tattered clothing as best he could, Thorin having ripped most of it was not helping but Thranduil didn’t wish for Thorin to think him ungrateful by making a fuss about it. He searched Thorin’s eyes for a moment trying to decipher what he was thinking. “Regardless of everything between us, I am truly grateful.” Thranduil said unsure on what to say exactly but he wanted to express his gratitude, he didn’t care what happened just moments ago this present moment took priority.

Thorin paused momentarily in his steps at the sound of Thranduil’s gasp. That sound...how he longed for him to be the cause of it. And when Thranduil’s voice reached his ears without the edge of harshness, Thorin closed his eyes, willing his aching heart to calm down as an upheaval of emotions—powerful like Nature itself—threatened to sweep him off his feet.

He blinked a few times and steeled himself. He couldn’t afford to be carried away again. This time he fell hard and still he was trying to crawl out of the pit Thranduil had threw him in. He couldn’t let his guard drop.

Narrowing his eyes, he looked one over at the other and declared darkly, “There will be a payment. I too am not a saint.”

Then without any further exchange of words, he looked away and headed for the exit. The sound of his feet echoed off the empty chamber and Thorin hoped that it was enough to drown out his wild and shallow breaths which were nothing but a futile attempt to hide the stabbing pain he felt in his heart.

He could not slip. Not again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: still not ours.
> 
> AN: We (I) owe a HUGE apology for taking so long to post. However here it is and we really appreciate all the awesome feedback and support you guys have provided!

A few days had passed since Thorin had made arrangements to have the rations sent to Thranduil’s people and so far the only payment that he required was for Thranduil stay in Erebor under the pretense of continuing negotiations, although Thranduil knew the real reason was so he could collect his full payment…although he was unsure of what that payment would be.

Thranduil had been given a more suitable room, more befitting of an elf complete with a wardrobe, his own bathing chamber, and various forms of entertainment which was rather generous and had it not been for the guards outside his door he would have more grateful…yet he still felt somewhat like a prisoner as aside from Thorin no one visited him, and it had been a few days since Thorin had graced him with a visit.

Thranduil hated to admit it but he was looking forward to seeing Thorin again, truth be told he had never really been left alone, his little alcove in the forest was for that reason so he could have some time to himself but he never stayed too long and once he returned he was surrounded by friends, family, council members, the duties of the kingdom kept him occupied and in contact with many of his kin…yet now he was alone for days with no one to talk to and he found himself…lonely.

The door to the chamber opened slowly under the heavy weight of its panes. As the panes widened away, Thorin’s eyes searched the revealing chambers for the solitary creature inhabiting it. There was a coolness to his eyes, a steeled barrier which belied the torment he had suffered just the previous night, tossing and turning, striding and pacing till the throb in his heart dimmed away to a numbness.

He turned towards the guards and nodded once. The guards acknowledged and quickly closed the door behind Thorin, locking it and looking ahead making their ears pay no heed to whatever would transpire inside.

For quite some time, Thorin stared at the closed door. Then he shifted his heels and took a few steps forward, sweeping the entire outer room with his eyes looking for any sign of Thranduil.

His eyes narrowed when suddenly, he heard the sound of running water. Drawing his shoulders back, Thorin walked unhesitatingly towards the source of the sound. When he came in front of the glass door of the bath chamber, he took a deep breath, easing the rumble that was slowly growing in his heart before he yanked the door open, revealing a startled Thranduil.

The elf was submerged partly in the lavishly designed marble tub. Water trickled down his skin, making it glisten with a sheen which all the more illuminated his immortal grace. Thorin had seen Thranduil in his royal attire, he had seen Thranduil in his pure natural form without the shamble of any clothing...but now, now Thranduil looked even more natural and rustic...yet at the same time more alleviating.

He felt his legs carry him towards the other. He felt himself kneeling down beside Thranduil, his hand coming up and gently brushing away wet locks of hair and tucking it behind the other’s ears. But what he felt most was the strong impulse in his heart which urged him, _pleaded_ him to claim those lush moist lips which parted slightly, revealing just a glimpse of pearly white teeth and a desirable mouth.

Thranduil for a moment was actually pleased to see Thorin, his solitude becoming more unbearable with the passing of days but at the same time he picked an awkward time to come visit him and even though the touch he received from Thorin was so gentle and in itself innocent he couldn’t help but flinch away from the touch and removed himself from the tub concealing himself in a robe quickly.

Thranduil could feel heat rise in his cheeks and hated himself for it, Thorin had seen him nude before but something about this situation simply embarrassed him and he wanted Thorin to not stare at him so intently, not look at him with those wanting eyes, Thranduil clutched the robe tighter before turning his eyes to Thorin.

“You stay away for days and manage to pick this moment to come?” Thranduil said walking past him and into the bedroom, he would never admit to actually being pleased regardless of the moment. “Was there something you wanted?” He asked a twinge of impatience in his voice.

Thorin’s eyes flickered with an unknown emotion as Thranduil flinched so unceremoniously after e seemed to be composed by Thorin’s gesture...even perhaps lea towards it? He quickly withdrew his arm and stood up, his face setting into a grimace while Thranduil managed to throw on his robe and walk past him without so much as regarding him.

Then Thranduil spoke...and then Thorin truly heard his word.

Did Thranduil just ask _him_ what he wanted? Did Thranduil just _question_ him?

Anger clouded his mind. His brows furrowed into a frown and rage flashed in his eyes with such a merciless manner that was enough to make even the strongest of the dwarves cower away.

He bolted after Thranduil, quickly shortening their distances with long strides and before Thranduil could get any further, he caught he elf by his wrist, twisted his arm behind his back and slammed Thranduil against a wall.

“Whether or not need drives me to enter a chamber in _my_ stronghold is a question which bears none of your concern.” He twisted Thranduil’s arm further, gripping it hard before pulling Thranduil away from the wall after which he threw him on the bed as roughly as he could. “Nor does it align with your position here!”

His eyes narrowed even farther, a slow darkness creeping in them as he considered Thranduil for a great while. He let his vision linger on the slender body stretched right in front, taking in every single line, every inch of long and slender limbs and pale skin that the robe failed to conceal.

Suddenly, his eyes gleamed as a thought crossed his mind.

“But you almost sound disappointed. Why do you sound so?” he asked, an eerie playfulness bordering his tone laced with grimness as he sat at the edge of the bed. “It is as if you were expecting me. Tell me Thranduil,” he leaned closer, running his fingers up along the length of the other’s shin, “What were you expecting?”

Thranduil audibly gasped when he was slammed against the nearby wall his arm being painfully twisted behind his back. ‘Why does it always end up like this?’ He thought briefly as Thorin shouted angrily at him before tossing him to the bed as if his weight was nothing at all. And again he was met with those burning and wanting eyes that made him turn away, damn Thorin and his short fuse, he was so quick to anger it did make Thranduil nervous whenever he was touched by him, concerned that those hands would not hesitate to strike him.

He felt Thorin lean closer a slight tremble ran through Thranduil as those venomous words from before became mixed with honey as and hand slowly caressed his shin in boldly moving further up his leg to his thigh which in turn forced Thranduil to pull away once more.

“You are the only contact with others I have, of course I was expecting you…who else could it possibly be.” Thranduil said through clenched teeth.

Thorin hummed almost to himself while his fingers brushed along the plush softness of Thranduil’s thighs before travelling inwards with as much patience as he could gather.

“Indeed, who else could it be?”

There was a glint in his eyes which gleamed only momentarily before darkness swooped in them with twice the intensity. His tone grew thicker and thicker till it resonated like a low rumble of a thunder which filled the room with a seemingly heavy air.

He breathed deeply and watched as Thranduil’s struggle dug through his veil of indifference. He watched as the elf king wantonly stopped short of writhing under his touch as his fingers ghosted dangerously over the spot which the elf tried protecting in vein by trying to press his thighs together.

However, he didn’t. He _couldn’t._

 Thorin’s smirk increased as the thought which suddenly ran in his mind caused a warm, hot and demanding sensation course through his veins. Heat began pooling in between his legs and very the region was becoming harder when anticipation and a weird sense of domination took Thorin over.

The elf looked beautiful. He always was but now, he looked even more sensational. Alluring like a forbidden pluck of treasure—a poisonous fruit. The more Thorin vied for it, the more it caused him pain and grief, mocking him from afar—telling him how Thorin could never acquire it. And that made Thorin want nothing more than to have his share with none to spare for the others. He wanted this illicit creature. He _had_ to have it.

The elf’s breaths were tense and laboured. His whole body was stretched with no lax in any fibre of his muscle. A wave of gasps rolled out from the other’s clenched teeth when Thorin’s hot breath hit against his skin as the dwarf’s lips loomed delicately over the base of his torso, sliding over to his thighs.

 Suddenly, Thorin drew back and as he did, he could feel the tension rolling off from the elf, only to be replaced with bouts of confusion. His eyes spilled curiosity as he watched Thorin simply sit back and withdraw his hands away from him. Thorin saw how the blue orbs shimmered with silent questions and clear accusations. But even beneath those emotions, Thorin’s eyes caught the faintest glimpse of another one.

Disappointment?

“You wish me not to touch you,” he said as he settled comfortably on the bed. “And I shall comply. I shall not lay a finger on you. Not now. Not for the entire day.”

He paused, letting Thranduil get a grip of his words who became all the more perplexed.

“You will do it for me,” Thorin smirked, “And _before_ me. And if you should refuse...well, then it will be on your shoulders the fate of your people.”

Thranduil’s body was completely ridged, the close proximity of the dwarf next to him, his warm hands and hot breath brushing against him so sensually it was enough to make him moan in distress, but he wouldn’t allow that weakness to show; instead in manifested itself into a contortion of muscles under the strain of resistance. Thranduil wasn’t immune to worldly pleasures; in that aspect he was honestly rather weak otherwise he would have never laid with Thorin in the past, nor want these torturous touches to continue. His body wanted to lean closer to the source of this sensuality, the warmth that seemed to radiated from Thorin’s body that his own was craving, Thranduil’s mind the only thing that kept himself at bay …he honestly hated himself a little for such a disgraceful flaw, he shouldn’t want this! It had been the source of troubles and conflict for them both and placed his people’s lives in jeopardy…and despite that fact they continued to find themselves in the same situation over and over again, this cycle was becoming unbearable.

He felt Thorin’s hands leave him and he let out large breath that he hadn’t even realized he had been holding inside, and his body relaxed somewhat. He dared to look at Thorin, he was honestly confused by this action, thus far he had been threatened, forced, teased, all the while stopping short of any actually intimacy. Thorin claimed to want it, to take it even if he must…however, he always stopped, he never crossed the line although he had come close it still had yet to happen.  _‘What are you waiting for?!’_  he thought the simple anticipation was driving him insane, he wanted to scream at Thorin but he wouldn’t do that, for fear his own voice would betray him on how this situation was truly making him feel.

Thranduil heard Thorin’s voice, that deep and rich tone that made him shiver although not from fear, Thorin had gained so much confidence and dignity over the years, his eyes alone showed more strength and pride than ever before and the tone washed over Thranduil like a forbidden and passionate caress, ruthless in its wanting.

Regardless of Thorin’s words though his confusion only increased as he shook his head. “Do it for you.” He repeated as if he didn’t understand it which of course he did but at the same time he wasn’t so sure. He didn’t think himself above self service but in all honesty he had never had the need to do so. Finding a willing partner was not a hard achievement as elf’s were rather sexual creatures to begin with; consequently there was never a need for Thranduil to pleasure himself.

Thranduil glared at Thorin when he mentioned his people yet again. “You use my people knowing that I will do whatever is needed to save them, it’s a rather blunt weapon you have chosen to wield against me.” Thranduil swallowed thickly and fixed his eyes directly upon Thorin’s. “You needn’t threaten me any more than you already have…has it ever occurred to you that you need but ask? Don’t give me an ultimatum, command it, tell me what to do King under the mountain.” Thranduil said his own voice taking a more sexual and sensual attitude, if Thorin wished to tease him so be it but two could play.

Thranduil slid himself backward until he was flush against the headboard as Thorn seemed to settle himself at the base. Thranduil could see evidence of Thorn’s own arousal the thought occurring to him that this could prove more torturous to Thorin than to himself. “I want you to remember…” He said untying his robe very slowly. “You said you wouldn’t touch me, not now or for the rest of the day.” He repeated as the robe slid from his shoulders the fabric polling around his waist. “Remember that.” He said in a harsh whisper dipping his hands beneath the fabric.

When Thranduil grasped himself he let out a breath, his member wasn’t completely flaccid which was actually good it gave him somewhat of a headway and what he should do depending on his own reactions. This was new terrain for him but he figured that over thinking the situation would be foolish. Just feel it, your own body knows what to do without ever thinking so he allowed this raw instinct to guide him.

He started with slow even strokes with one of his hands while the other ran along the length of his thigh, he could practically feel his own blood start to heat as his heart’s pace quickened. It didn’t take much for his member to thicken, and grow hard in his hand, the tip of his length brushing against the fabric sending small jolts with every movement. He kept Thorin’s view concealed for good reason; allow the dwarfs mind to run a little wild before satisfying that curiosity, he wanted a show? Thranduil would give him an unparalleled show.

Thranduil very slowly drew the robe away from his waist that was concealing his actions giving a small gasp when the cool air touched his now completely bare body, specifically his arousal which was trapped in a luscious heat not moments ago. Thranduil swallowed thickly and continued his action’s slowly picking up the pace, his other hand traveling over his chest and brushing across his nipples which sent shivers down his spine. 

 _This isn’t terrible at all,_  Thranduil idly thought as his back arched involuntarily when his sensation became heightened from his own self inflicted stimulation however, he wanted more.

Thranduil reluctantly released his length, it was straining upward against his taunt stomach and weeping with need and while he could easily finish himself he wasn’t ready to end this performance too quickly. He placed himself on his hands and knees his backside facing Thorin as he slowly placed a hand on his buttocks his middle finger slowly tracing the cleft and pressing gently against his entrance. He only added a slight pressure not actually entering himself just giving his body a jolt. He heard Thorin’s breath hitch at this action as he turned his eyes to the dwarf who seemed tense and quite bothered.

“You seem upset My King.” Thranduil said purposely using Thorin’s title to antagonize or elate him. “Is this not what you wanted?” He asked using a sweet yet at the same time sarcastic tone and stopping all his actions as if he was waiting for permission to continue.

“But effective nonetheless,” Thorin rasped his eyes shining for the briefest of moments as he saw the lines in Thranduil’s body easing themselves into compliance and feigned willingness. At what he spoke next, when the rich smooth tone of the elf reverberated throughout Thorin’s body and mind as if he was nothing but the cavern in which the damned elf dwelt, Thorin literally felt his lungs burning from wanting to release the breaths he held back so forcefully.

His eyes dilated with lust. His hand dropped to his side, smoothening the sheet and then slowly clenching it beneath his palms as he leaned back against the base of the bed. His eyes hungrily lingered over Thranduil, taking in the luscious stretching of muscles, sharpening of his bodily lines as the elf too pressed himself against the headboard. His skin was flushed and looked supple, shimmering under the pale light which fell upon him.

“Do it. Please yourself.” Words left Thorin’s voice, barely managing to hide the thrill and anticipation which the dwarf lord was feeling in its rich dark tone. His eyes gleamed with a sudden bout of lust as it eagerly followed the sliding of Thranduil’s robe, thereby revealing his pale shoulders—the blades of which seemed to glisten in what little light lit up the chamber.

“I shall remember,” Thorin mumbled, his eyes not leaving the smooth white flesh, travelling upwards taking a glimpse of Thranduil’s own orbs which were bright with an emotion of their own before lingering a long time on his lips, making Thorin gulp involuntarily with Thranduil moistening them.

Thranduil complied. He steadily brought his arm and placed it over his length, caressing it gently, slowly with every bit of patience he had and each time his hand went back and came forth, Thorin’s own body would too react when it would inch forward and settle back only briefly before Thorin would press himself tightly against the board and let his eyes do the roaming.

It was an unbelievable sensation he was experiencing: as if Thranduil was a moon drawing him in his pull. Emotions placated his heart but in their place, sensations crashed against it—wild and untameable—rousing up reactions which the dwarf king had never before experienced in his lifetime.

He groaned slightly when Thranduil purposefully shielded away the view. He wanted to see it, he wanted to see Thranduil enjoying Thorin’s presence. He wanted to see Thranduil please himself _for_ Thorin but feel the pleasure as well.

Soon his mind wandered off to various corners—all forbidden and none too less sacrilegious. He wondered what it would be life to be felt by the elf’s slender hands, brushing smoothly along his own length instead of Thranduil’s own, which was no longer keeping its hardening at bay, as Thorin would imagine.

His mind drifted off to the past, to the dawn in the Valar forsaken forest where for the briefest of moments, Thorin had felt Thranduil’s silken skin beneath his own. The elf’s hands roaming all about his back, warm lips pressed against his own flushed skin, pants and moans filling the air, kisses of lust and want forsaking any other senses—

Thorin gasped out sharply. A low guttural groan escaped him as Thranduil arched and controllably convulsed seemingly under his own touch. The fabric that was used to conceal his member was made to slide off from the elf’s lap, finally revealing the sight for which Thorin was waiting.

Thranduil was hard and taut. His hands roamed over his chest, teasing the pink flesh so carelessly—mocking Thorin, taunting him by pointing out that it was what Thranduil would very much enjoy but Thorin would have to suffice by revelling in the idea.

His member was strained and as erect as it could be and Thorin wanted nothing more— _nothing more_ —than to reach out and touch it with his own hands, finish the deed which Thranduil was so torturously putting off. His fingers twitched as the clenched portion of the sheet became all the more wrinkled being gripped so tightly by a shaking fist.

“Finish it,” Thorin rasped, gulping in air and lowering his face all the while his eyes kept locked at Thranduil, darkening with pure need of wanting the elf beneath him. But he could not. He had given word and let the axe fall on his own foot as a result of that.

And when the elf drew in a light breath, Thorin felt his own member twitching with need and heat which accumulated rapidly between his legs. It was then that Thorin could hold himself back no longer. He raised his hips—enough to allow his hand to slide his trousers below his knees. When he was successful in doing so, he grabbed himself and slowly wrapped his fingers around his own member. As soon as he did so, he felt thousands of jolts going through his body—as if he was being pierced by the coldest of ice shrapnels which were making all the way towards his heart.

His breaths became hard and his eyes fluttered shut as Thorin tried his best to control himself and not scream out in pleasure the name of the being who was now facing the other way. His chest was heavy and no matter how much he sucked air in his lungs, they burned along with his heart as tides of emotions rolled over them.

Thranduil was rearranging himself such that he now could bring his arm to his back without much difficulty. Thorin waited, holding his breath as he saw a finger gently probing its way in—then further inwards, a little more...and a little more...

Oh how he wished it was _him_ and not some trickery of self-service that would give the illusion of Thranduil being claimed. All those days ago, Thranduil had willingly submitted...he had willingly allowed Thorin to claim him. Why were things so different now? Why could Thorin not do it again?

Why did he have to give Thranduil word which he knew would be extremely impossible to keep?

His own strokes resumed, slowly increasing in pace, numbing the heat momentarily before it returned to his core yet again as Thorin’s hand prepared for another stroke.

“Finish it,” he rasped again—this time it was more a plea than a command.

Thranduil smiled slightly as he closed his eyes so that he could momentarily revel in the masked desperation on Thorin’s voice. He had assumed that Thorin had originally asked this of him to embarrass and possibly humiliate him however it seemed that Thranduil was not as shy as he originally thought. It was gratifying that Thorin was unable to contain his desire and reached for himself hastily, his eyes and demeanor had completely changed, both clouded and thick with lust. _‘Will you be able to keep your word?’_ Thranduil thought before he braced himself and pushed his middle finger inside.

Thranduil couldn’t hold back a gasp, he didn’t use any type of oil although his own sweat seemed enough to not cause any intense pain, and it still took him by surprise. He wasn’t accustomed to this type of play; Thorin was the only one he had ever allowed to breach him so this was a strange and new sensation…and by the Valar it truly felt amazing.

It didn’t take long for Thranduil to speed up his hand, adapting to the feeling quickly where he didn’t even need to pause his motions. His own arousal begged for attention as he leaned forward, resting most of his weight upon his chest so that his other hand was free to give some attention to his length. Thranduil couldn’t help but shudder slightly at the waves of pleasure that seemed to crash into him repeatedly, surprising him that he hadn’t toppled over. He barely even registered that his body seemed to have a mind of its own and without caring he added a second and third digit thrusting them in and out of his body directly in sync with his strokes upon hi length.

It truly felt wonderful but even Thranduil knew that he couldn’t keep this up much longer, he fixed half lidded eyes upon Thorin, he seemed so tense and restrained while at the same time inflamed and aroused, those two emotions combating each other must be a torturous conflict of sheer will…and still Thranduil wanted to tease him all the more.

“It really is a shame.” Thranduil gasped from his own ministrations. “While I only have you to compare to, I’m sure this would be much better if it was you and not simply my hand…that pesky little promise of yours.” Thranduil said rolling onto his back allowing his legs to spread wide to allow Thorin full view of everything he was doing to himself. Thranduil closed his eyes and allowed the sensations to overwhelm him.

It took Thorin a God given will to keep himself from reaching out and claim Thranduil’s lips with his own when he caught the elf’s lips parting open ever so slightly, little trembling breaths making their way out of his mouth as Thranduil pushed his digits deeper into himself.

Then Thranduil gasped, hissing in pain when a clear burning sensation shot within himself. Then Thorin realized just how desperate he was—how needy he was in wanting to replace Thranduil’s finger with his own. The elf’s body rolled gently, swayed a little adjusting himself to the act he was engaging himself in. Then he pushed another finger in, then another...

Thorin gasped, throwing his head back when a plethora of sensations warped his mind. He felt it all—pleasure, want, need, lust, pain—everything which coursed through him and mangled is heart in a wild storm which he knew would never cease as long as he was bound to his torturous promise.

His strokes became faster. His vision now bleary, focusing out everything around him. His senses were dull to the external environment but when it came to himself perceiving every tiny jolt of electricity running up and down his spine and member, they were heightened more than ever.

Thranduil’s legs were spread. He hid nothing of what he was doing to himself. His voice was becoming strained. His breaths ragged, his moves rolling like waves in an ocean and his voice was pleasing—no, no— it taunted him. Mocked Thorin and held so much playfulness as if it was by his own will that Thranduil was engaging in such an act.

And what really drove Thorin insane was that Thranduil was right, He knew the elf to be right. The elf could be writhing under _him_ at that moment, he could be rolling against _him_ , bucking his hips and arching his backs, bright orbs looking up at him in admiration as Thorin sweetly kissed his lips—

All of a sudden, Thorin threw his head back again, groaning and gasping as his strokes became wilder. He was desperate, hot, wanting relief.

“Don’t fret,” he replied tersely through clenched teeth, “You will have plenty of chances where _you_ shall be the one asking for them.”

His thoughts were no longer clear. No longer could he differentiate between one trail of thought from another; nor was he now aware of his mind mixing words into an incoherent babble while it slowly drove him to that one point where everything converged into one name only.

His eyes suddenly flew open when he felt something hot and sticky flowing into his hand. His body was trembling and when another jolt made his body shudder with another bout of release, Thorin could no longer keep his voice down.

He screamed and the name which fell from his mouth was the only thing which ruled his body and mind.

Thranduil’s body sent out a blot of electricity upon hearing Thorin scream his name, that raw masculine voice actually screaming his name in pure desire sent him tumbling over the edge as his body constricted gripping his fingers tight and practically forcing his back to arch. He clenched his jaw tightly, he wanted to scream in ecstasy as his release spilled from his body, but he feared his voice would betray him if he allowed it.

His orgasm rolled over him in waves until he was completely spent and his body went limp, it felt as if all his energy, lust, excitement, was pulled away from him completely…this was the point where he truly felt vulnerable and weak, enjoyable enough to when in the moment he didn’t honestly care.

Thorin was exhausted by the time Thranduil came but even in his half-delirious state, he perceived well how Thranduil’s own body grew rigid before convulsing as he reached his climax. The elf was breathing hard, his eyes were unfocused and were shining with an emotion Thorin had not the mind to define. His body was covered with sweat, rendering him a flush glow which made the elf look brilliant at that precise moment.

However, it did not feel right. Thorin had half expected Thranduil to say something, to mutter word, a name, _his_ name...but it was all that it was: an expectation and nothing more.

Thranduil uttered not a single word. He did not whisper a name let alone scream it with delight. He simply kept his jaws clenched, as if uttering Thorin’s very name would be heinous for the elf. And this very realization hurt. It stung.

Slowly, Thorin gathered himself and climbed down from the bed. He cast one look at Thranduil. The elf was looking back at him with an air of indifference while he still panted lightly. His face was void, emotionless but that was not all...no...

Perhaps Thorin was imagining it but he could’ve sworn to see something else beneath the stoic gaze of the elf. Something which sparkled in his orbs—wanting to come out and reveal itself but was being roughly shoved by Thranduil himself being his veil of coldness.

Was it possible that—that to Thranduil it was something more than acting on behalf of Thorin? Could the elf be capable of feeling what Thorin felt for him throughout the whole ordeal?

The elf closed his eyes and turned his back.

At that, Thorin’s gaze darkened and whatever hope had risen within his heart was squashed away ruthlessly.

It was his imagination, he told himself. Fickle and futile, nothing more.

For he knew that if Thranduil had felt for him just a little, then he would not toy with him all those days ago and not break his heart like the way he did.

Tearing his gaze away from the other, Thorin hastily made his way out of the chamber. The guards who were left behind spoke nothing to their king. They knew better.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: We are both extremely excited to present y'all with this very chapter and we are super pleased with the amount of response this fic has received from you guys Thank you all! 
> 
> Now, buckle up for some major drama, some major tension and some major plot-thickening event!

Thranduil gave a deep sigh as he idly thumbed the pages of one the books that had been placed in his room, it had been three days since Thorin had last came to see him and he didn’t stay long he simply delivered a letter from Mirkwood so Thranduil would have confirmation that the supplies had indeed been delivered and the distribution and rebuilding had commenced. Thorin hadn’t even commented once on their activities the day before, he acted as though it never even happened to begin with, which was puzzling to Thranduil but didn’t question it.

He honestly wanted to pretend that the forced isolation and lack of contact had no effect on him whatsoever but it was far from the truth, he hated being alone more than he hated the subjugation Thorin implemented upon him. The less Thorin came the more willing Thranduil found himself to be and it truly sickened Thranduil that he was so desperate for companionship that he would allow himself to be conquered so easily…and what was even worse that at times Thorin wasn’t terrible at all, innocent and gentle touches that seemed to infuriate him before now he openly welcomed.

The door opened and in came a dwarf guard. He took swift purposeful strides towards the elf who was lulling on his bed, a book resting idly in his hands. The elf seemed preoccupied with something but the moment the guard entered, he found the full weight of Thranduil’s gaze upon him.

The guard shifted on his legs. The elf was looking at him with a certain sparkle in his eyes as if it was a saving grace that he had arrived. However, just as soon as the sparkle had made itself known, it vanished quickly, being replaced by a thick darkness which suddenly loomed upon the features of the other.

It was as if...the elf was expecting someone else.

“Make yourself presentable,” he said in a carefree manner, ignoring the flicker of indignation which temporarily rose in the other’s eyes. “The king has asked for you in his study.”

 

* * *

 

 

Thorin had been sitting on a plush leather chair, his eyes transfixed upon the quivering flames of his fireplace. He had not moved since the whole morning and he didn’t know why but a certain apathy kept his body and mind from attending any duties.

He had deliberately kept his distance from the elf over the last few days. He had tried not even bothering about what had transpired in the elf’s allotted chamber. It was nothing, only Thranduil subjugating under his command—that was what he told himself again and again and again. That it was nothing to be mulling over.

However, the more he chanted the same thing, more he felt himself being lied to.

He had believed that he was the one in control of that day...but now that he had a chance to think about it, a whole new frontier came before his eyes.

Thranduil. He played Thorin all along. He had Thorin wrapped around his fingers and the dwarf king did not even realize it until it was too late.

Anger boiled in him. His pride became wounded once more however...he as lethargic. He wanted to be angry, he wanted to pay Thranduil for all that he had done. But he had not the will. Not at the moment at least.

He simply...wanted Thranduil to notice him. To love him, perhaps?

He sighed and sat up when he heard a soft tap on the doors.

“Enter,” he commanded and closed his eyes as soft and light footsteps approached him.

Thranduil was surprised that someone other than Thorin had entered his chamber; he had half a mind to think that no other but himself and the King had the right to enter this room, however wha surprised him the most was that not only did Thorin summon him but he was actually allowing him to leave this room. It had occurred to Thranduil that Thorin never specifically said he couldn’t leave but he did hinder that ability by locking the door to the outside, which in all honesty was unnecessary, Thranduil had promised to stay in Erebor as one of the payments to his requests…aside from the fact he still needed Thorin’s help, he simply couldn’t leave, at least not yet.

He regarded the dwarf only momentarily before he went behind a screen to change, Thorin had actually supplied him with a wardrobe, which was strange but Thranduil didn’t complain…in all honesty Thorin had been very gracious with his accommodations, the only thing he lacked was companionship. He pulled on a silver gown and a light grey cloak with high boots, in all honesty he was not find of overly flashy clothes, the simpler the attire the more comfortable he felt…he smiled remember Legolas telling him that flashy clothes did not magnify his appearance for they only took attention away from his face which was his most striking feature…he missed Legolas terribly.

* * *

The walk through the corridors didn’t take long at all; apparently Thorin was never too far from Thranduil, as the servant simply knocked and the door and left immediately. Thranduil head the command from inside and allowed himself inside shutting the door behind him. He walked up to Thorin but stayed standing and at arm’s length.

He wanted to ask why he had been summoned but his eyes and thoughts were drawn elsewhere. Thorin had a very generous balcony, the doors were open and a cool breeze brushed across his face the suns warm rays shinning down, the outside overlooked a very beautiful and lush garden which surprised Thranduil although he could smell the aroma of the flowers carried upon the breeze and he yearned to be closer to nature once more. His own room had no windows and he hadn’t been outside in so long, he felt himself shift slightly, about to make his way toward the balcony, but stopped himself. He fixed his gaze on Thorin and waited, trying to ignore everything else…at least for the moment.

Thorin felt the air about him changing because of the presence of another. Once more a very familiar scent entered his nostrils and once more was he transported back to the past where he remembered not having enough of the rich forest scent coming off from the other.

He inhaled deeply, if only to please his memories. He then slowly rose up and stood, his back still facing the elf as if he bore not enough weight to be looked at.

He knew Thranduil was probably aching for an answer. He realized that Thranduil would ask him directly about his sudden change of mind but before the elf could once more gain an upper hand, Thorin started nonchalantly, “You are not here for a change of scenery, Elf. I hope you realize that. You are here for business purposes only. Among other things.” He added the last part extremely quietly, completely under his breath. He knew what complete honesty gave and it hurt.

He still kept his gaze affixed on the dancing flames. A cold breeze was peering in the room, caressing his cheeks and Thorin couldn’t help but suppress the smallest of shudders crossing through his body.

He wondered if Thranduil felt shivers too. Though unlikely being an elf but still, a small part of Thorin tried to imagine the elf king’s chilled skin upon his own as Thorin covered him with his own bodily heat.

He turned finally, sweeping his arm to gesture for the couch where he went ahead and made himself comfortable. He didn’t even bother tracking if Thranduil was following him, despite the great urge. Instead, he simply waited.

At any rate, what he was about to tell would not be pleasantly received by the elf.

Thranduil hesitated a little but took the offered seat, if anything Thorin seemed distracted and he wouldn’t even meet his gaze, it was curious to say the least. Thorin seemed…irritated about something but Thranduil wouldn’t risk a guess as to why, if anything Thranduil felt he should try and improve the mood, it never lead to much good to aggravate Thorin further but if he soothed the mood it might make things easier for them both.

“As you wish.” Thranduil said leaning back on the couch following Thorin’s gaze the fire. The flames danced across the dwarfs face and reflected in his eyes with beautiful orange and red, those colors suited the King very well and Thranduil was a little taken aback that he was actually admiring the King for the first time.

“Only half the stock shall reach your people. Papers will say ‘awaiting produce from the reserves’. Oncoming winter and difficult mountain path will be to blame.” Thorin said delaying the matter no further. He frowned, knowing exactly what question would cross the elf’s mind and exactly what he’d be subjected to hear. “You will hear other reasons, of course. True reasons.”

He leaned back against the couch with a regal air about him and looked down at the other with his chin propped on the back of his hand. Even from that angle, he could see the beginnings of a flame in Thranduil’s expressive blue orbs. He could see the elf king’s jaws clenching and unclenching while he tried controlling his anger. He paused, allowing Thranduil to say something which would be usually expected from him.

However, when no words came, Thorin couldn’t help but frown in annoyance for a moment before placating into his indifferent expression once more.

“It is because I believe in equivalent exchange and so far, _I_ have been the one who has been generous enough to deplete Erebor’s own reserves for the sake of your people. In turn, I receive nothing.” He paused again and narrowed his eyes dangerously at the bristling figure before him. “Surely you must know, considering the generosity which you have been shown so far.”

Thranduil took a few deep breaths to keep himself in check, he knew this day would come and in all honesty he was surprised that it had not come sooner however he also found himself not wanting to fight with Thorin, there was no reason to fight him except to possibly save his own pride which was not worth the lives of his people.

“I understand.” He stated simply through gritted teeth although he was trying his best not to become angry with Thorin so far he had yet to do anything except speak.

His answer seemed to astonish Thorin, Thranduil’s compliance was probably not what Thorin expected to hear. Thranduil wanted Thorin to tell him point blank what he wanted, and if it was love he feared another rejection would only damage the agreement further. Thranduil had to remind himself to simply do as he was told and everything would work out but Thorin’s mind seemed to work on a different wavelength than his own, even though Thranduil was agreeing to everything he still seemed angry nonetheless.

The answer was not at all what Thorin was expecting to hear. He foresaw fury, shouts, snide remarks coming from the elf that was known to have a huge sense of pride and his own twisted version of righteousness. He had expected a reaction— _any_ reaction—that would show Thranduil as something more than a pet which one kept on a leash.

His heart panging suddenly when he realized what Thranduil’s attitude meant.

The elf was not only succumbing; he was willing to become a slave.  A mindless, witless slave! But Thorin did not want that. He did _not_! True he wanted Thranduil to succumb; to acknowledge Thorin as the only one who ruled his heart. At first, he really believed that it was all he wanted—that as long as Thranduil acknowledged his love, acknowledged _him_ as the superior of the two, the _better_ of the two, it would not matter if Thranduil willingly loved him or not. But...now that Thraduil was yielding under his command, why did it hurt Thorin? Why did it not bring pleasure to him as he thought it would?

Why did Thorin feel so hollow?

“You understand.” Thorin repeated shrugging off his daze all the while trying to keep his tone free from the irritation building slowly within him, “And what do you intend to do about it?”

Thranduil opened his mouth only to close it again, he took a deep breath. “I’m not…I’m not sure.” Thranduil said turning his face away from Thorin unable to meet the others intense gaze. “You make it sound so easy…you don’t make anything easy Thorin. You act as if unless it is difficult it’s not worth anything.” Thranduil paused. “You fought for your life; you fought for your Kingdom, you continue to fight for your peopled…has it occurred to you yet that fighting me will not get the results you want? I don’t normally respond well to threats and the only reason I am still here is because of the leverage you have against me.”

Thranduil sighed deeply as he stood up, coming a little closer to Thorin. “I wouldn’t be here without that leverage and yet you seem so adamant on making this complicated…I don’t hate you Thorin but I’m not exactly inclined to love you either. I am at your command Thorin, I am more than willing to do everything in my power to obey you if that is your wish…but you also know if I said that I loved you I would be lying, do you want me to lie to you?” Thranduil asked.

“THEN WHY HAD YOU MADE ME BELIEVE A LIE IN THE FIRST PLACE?” Thorin screamed and punched the couch, suddenly rising up so that now he was towering _over_ the much taller elf.

His nostrils flared by the haggard breaths escaping him. His eyes burned with anger, hurt and pain which he had managed to keep under wraps for so long till Thranduil once again scraped at his wounds.

He saw Thranduil considering him like he was a child who had lost something as petty as a toy. Thranduil’s eyes shone with sympathy, no—he _pitied_ Thorin. He truly believed that Thorin Oakenshield, King under the mountain was so pathetic that he needed _pity_ of all things and that very thought boiled Thorin to the core.

Reflex took over. His hands grabbed Thranduil’s biceps and viced around them, making the other tremble as he himself did so out of pure rage.

“You deign this to be complicated? What would you call your state of mind when you lured me and broke me and tossed me aside?” Rage was evident in his voice which Thorin did not even bother try to lower. His eyes narrowed dangerously with Thranduil’s words piercing him like needles. The elf dared to put the entire blame on him! Had he forgotten his own vicious act or did he pretend that it had never happened at all?

His grip on Thranduil was gradually becoming tighter just as his own revelation made his heart churn with utter disgust and anger, enough to cause him a strange pain.

“What do you think?” Suddenly, his voice fell and his look changed as desperation seeped into his eyes. “That I only want to enjoy your flesh? That I am so insatiable in my carnal desires that I have to hatch a plan to bring _you_ and turn you to a fornicating slave? Do you think so low of me, you pretentious bastard?”

However, the desperation left from Thorin’s face without any trace and instead anger found its way again due to which, the tremble in the dwarf’s body increased and his breathing became wilder.

“I never forced you into anything!” Thranduil screamed back at Thorin trying to wrench himself from the grasp, “I offered you nothing but kindness that day! I had no intention to be with you in any way, you instigated the entire act, and I have apologized over and over, what more would you have me do?! He looked pleadingly into Thorin’s eyes but the pressure on his arms only increased. “I do not think of you as low Thorin…” Thranduil said barely above a whisper.

Thranduil felt himself pulled closer to Thorin the heat of the other enveloping him, the quick and wild heaving of the other’s chest tight against his own with the rapid beat of their hearts. Thranduil swallowed nervously, his own rapid heartbeat thumbing loudly in his ears and he wasn’t even sure why it was beating so fast in the first place. He could feel Thorin’s hot breath bush across his nape and that made him visibly tremble which only made him more anxious as he once more tried to pull away…he wasn’t even sure there was anything left to say Thorin couldn’t force Thranduil to love him no matter how hard he tried but his actions certainly didn’t help matters either.

Thorin looked away from the other’s eyes. He knew what ould happen if he stared too long at Thranduil and it would not bode well for him. Thranduil knew how to persuade and to dissuade at the same time. He knew what a single gaze of his held: enough power to bend the will of any being alive and true to its nature, Thorin was no exception either.

He had seen the magic take its course with him. He had let himself be pulled into a trance by the enchantment in Thranduil’s eyes but no more.

“And yet you never stopped me when you knew what outcome it would have. So how really do you intend to maintain your sense of righteousness, you fraud?” He snarled and pulled Thranduil closer, bristling when the sudden action made Thranduil’s body to come in contact with him for the briefest moment before Thorin placed a hair’s gap between them. However, when their bodies did clash, Thorin couldn’t bring himself to ignore the quivers in his skin and the rummage in his heart as his innards felt like being tossed and thrown by a rampant mix of emotions which only the elven king could ever make him feel.

His breaths were fast and erratic. His fingers twitched simply to hold the elf down and claim his mouth—mercilessly and violently—pouring all the passion he had into one single kiss. Let it be a sin! Let it be heinous! If only it could induce Thranduil to love him, to want him...

All of a sudden, Thorin eased his breathing. He gradually began to relax while loosening the grip on Thranduil’s arms.

“I could have you right here and right now should I choose to with or against your will,” he murmured in a rich low tone, letting his warm breath clash against Thranduil’s lips, nose and mouth while he held the other’s gaze steadfastly. “I had so many opportunities. You should perhaps stop and wonder just how generous I have been and what a miser you are. Then you should consider who had been treated unjustly.”

“Extremely generous…and I am truly indebted for everything you have done thus far.” Thranduil said softly, he was being honest, he was truthfully gratified for what Thorin had done for his people and the small favors he himself had been granted, but he knew he would have to bend more to Thorin’s needs if these deals were to continue.

Thranduil drew a shaky breath leaning forward gently brushing his lips across Thorin’s cheek, the action seemed to shock Thorin for he became instantly still but Thranduil continued despite this. Thranduil kissed his collar bone moving up across neck and jaw line. He felt Thorin’s hand release their grip on his arms and slowly wrap around his waist pulling him a little closer. Thranduil finally kissed Thorin gently on the lips. It wasn’t a needy or desperate kiss, it was gentle and sincere. Unfortunately it was the only thing Thranduil had to offer him that didn’t make him want to recoil.

He drew away slowly. “For now…for now is this enough?” He asked simply. “I would gladly offer you much more if that’s what you required but you have clearly stated that a fake encounter is not wanted…I promise you I am honest in this though…can this be enough at least for now?” Thranduil asked searching Thorin’s eyes for any type of reaction.

At what Thranduil said, Thorin stepped back and simply looked with astonishment. Thranduil was actually agreeing and for once he was not painting a picture where Thorin was coloured as the brute one. It was so incomprehensible for the dwarf that he couldn’t hide the shock and the little flutter in his heart which made his eyes shine with hope.

Perhaps there could be hope for them? It was a fancy, a wistful fantasy and Thorin very well acknowledged no matter what he said to Thranduil but would he be so pathetic if he held on to a shrivel of hope of gaining Thranduil’s affections? Maybe not today or maybe not anytime sooner...but someday?

His heartbeat grew faster when Thranduil leaned in. So close...the elf was so close that Thorin could feel Thranduil’s breath on his face. So close that the elf king’s silken strands brushed against the side of his cheeks and with each breath Thorin took, he could smell the sweetness of juniper and wild forest from the elf king’s body. He inhaled deeply, his eyes fluttering shut as the fragrance washed over him. He felt calmer, more peaceful...and yet his heart went on beating with a fast beat which increased as did the warmth which radiated from it as the distance between the elf and himself lessened.

Then he felt it. A soft, warm feeling on his cheek which seemed to take Thorin’s entire breath away. He stood still—astonished and charmed—as Thranduil willingly showered his affection on him. There was no force involved; no snide remarks, threats, powerplay...it was simple and it felt wonderful.

The warmth in his heart shot rapidly to all the corners of his body. His heart danced with a wild mirth and soon, Thorin found himself reacting to what he truly craved. His arms released Thranduil’s wrist completely, wrapping around his waist as he gently pulled the elf closer. To his delight, Thranduil complied and allowed himself to be pulled towards Thorin’s direction where he settled comfortably. His lips ghosted around Thorin’s collarbone, teasing it as his breath met Thorin’s skin, before finally placing gentle kisses across it before moving up to his jawline. Thorin shuddered slightly at the cool touch of Thranduil’s fingers carefully stroking his cheeks. His brows furrowed as he let himself be immersed in the need he ached for. His mind began disbarring the present, slowly transporting it back to those days when it was simpler—when he and Thranduil were coming to terms, when he met Thranduil without any regal formalities and under the stars.

He remembered how beautiful he had found the elf the first time he had seen him in water. How angelic he looked glowing against the fire and starlight lie the ethereal being he was. He remembered being in love and once more that same feeling was washing over him, soaking him in its gentle downpour as the day he had first realized how strongly he felt for the elf.

Before Thorin could even comprehend how he should react next, he felt Thranduil’s lips pressing against his own. It was at that moment that Thorin felt the enormity of his emotions as they smacked and collided against each other within himself, shaking his entire core and exposing his barest senses in absolute vulnerability.

His mind went blank, his body began trembling and before reality could crash his dreams, Thorin’s instincts took over and he moved his lips, wanting more of such gentleness, such _love_. However, before he could invite Thranduil in, the other broke their kiss and stepped back. Thorin stared back at the elf, dazed and confused, as his dark eyes pleaded with silent questions.

However, as Thranduil spoke, he soon received his answer and it was then that he felt that whatever glimmer of hope he had felt in his heart quickly faded away as it ached with reality rushing in.

Of course.

Pain flashed in his face but before it would be extremely evident, Thorin blinked a few times and stepped back releasing Thranduil  with apparent carelessness.

“And you would be right,” he said in a disgusted whisper. “I _require_ nothing. It is what I _want_ that matters not what I _need._ And for you to soothe me and treat me like a fool or a child just shows how little regard you have.”

He sneered and took a long look at the other, revulsion twisting his facial features before he turned his back.

“You think you are so desirable that you can toy with whoever you want. Well...you will not expect a thing out of me unless you grow a conscience. And _then_ if I see fit, I will aid you further. Now leave.”

Thranduil clenched his fists and jaw, it seemed as though he could do nothing without it being rebuked and he was tired of this go-around with Thorin. He wasn’t toying with him, he would never kiss someone as he had, had he not wanted too. Thorin turned him into a villain at every opportunity, but now that his culprit was being compliant and trying to appease him it was destroying that image…was it simply easier to hate him?

“Is this how things will continue? At a stand-still? I wasn’t teasing you, I had no _hidden_  motive or some twisted thought to mock you.” Thranduil shook his head, the kiss was genuine and Thorin had failed to see that. “Of course I want the supplies, you know that already, but my true affection seemed to be the only payment you would accept…apparently it wasn’t enough.” Thranduil tuned on his heel and was about to leave but stopped for a moment.

“Maybe I should leave…leave the mountain, would that appease you?” Thranduil asked keeping his back turned to the Dwarf King, he didn’t want to see his face. He couldn’t continue like this, his people were suffering and he was here, sleeping in a soft bed, plenty of food to eat, even wine to drink…it wasn’t right and it twisted his insides into knots. “I am not the heartless, conscienceless scoundrel you portray me to be Thorin, but me staying here seems rather pointless and if that is the case I would rather be with my own.” He turned only enough to set eyes on Thorin. “I don’t hate you Thorin…do you hate me?” He asked.

Thorin felt a part of his heart being torn apart when Thranduil faced the other way. However, before he paused and at that moment, even if Thorin’s heart fluttered briefly at the possibility of Thranduil changing his mind, it soon disappeared with the elf’s next words.

Thorin clenched his jaws hard, trying valiantly to keep his breathing eased and composed. A great urge was rolling up through his throat wanting him to lash out, to scream, to let out the grief and frustration he held within himself.

He did not want Thranduil to leave. How would it appease him? How could it? Thranduil was here...he was _here_ and if nothing else, Thorin could atleast see him. If he went back to the woods then Thorin would never get to—

Thorin swallowed hard, forcing the urge down before burying it with his cold mask. Though this time, the coldness was much difficult to bring about on his face when his heart cried.

Still, he could not break down. Thranduil would not see him vulnerable again. Once he did and Thorin still paid the price. Not again.

“You want to risk the lives of your people?” He finally brought himself to say but the words somehoa had lost their effect. Thorin sounded fake and he knew Thranduil could see through that. Still he could perhaps make himself gain leverage; make himself sound powerful again which he now _was_. However, at what Thranduil spoke next, Thorin’s resolve crumbled.

He spun on his heels and looked up at the other, scandal in his eyes as if the entire idea was poison to Thorin’s ears.

“Hate you?” He rasped. His heart felt like being pulled apart in every direction, his mind was spinning, his ears felt hot and the stabbing pain that he felt in his chest and gut was becoming so hot and unbearable that Thorin really wanted to rip his heat out and end his suffering.

Thranduil was looking back. His eyes were burning with a clear blue light which he seemed to hold in them. Thorin scowled and opened his mouth.

It was at the tip of his tongue, stinging like poison. Thranduil was waiting.

He wanted to say, yes. He hated Thranduil. He did. After what the elf had done, how could Thorin _not_ hate him?

But his voice was not coming out. His mind was screaming ‘Lies’. His thoughts were garbled, his heart was aching. His cheeks flushed. Images flashed through his mind—all of starry nights, fire, flames, alabaster skin, thick brows like painting, eyes like diamonds—

His heart was beating fast. His throat was drying up. The word which as tethering on his tongue still sat there. Why was it so hard? Why could he not just say and be done with it? What was stopping him?

He hated Thranduil. He knew he did! He _thought_ he did.

“No,” finally Thorin succumbed. “I love you _still_.”

He brought his gaze up and searched for any kind of reaction in the other all the while honesty and sincerity spilled from his own eyes. He paused to compose himself before speaking again, “And look what you make me do.” This time also, he couldn’t control his voice which trailed off into a quiver as guilt and shame crawled in his face.

His heart rate was steadying itself, the heat and pain he felt in him was slowly numbing away. His cheeks still burned but the stinging feeling was gradually fading. His throat was no longer dry. His mind was no longer screaming at him. The battle he felt within himself was over and the truth finally came out.

At the mention of his people Thranduil felt himself numbed almost instantly, He knew the danger of his actions and he knew that it was not a completely empty threat on Thorin’s part to cut off supplies either, it was the one solid leverage he had against Thranduil which he wouldn’t soon give up…however the words didn’t sound honest this time, it was almost as if he had used them so many times that the threat was empty now, it had lost its former fear. True enough Thranduil still feared for his people’s lives but If Thorin continued to refuse him at every turn he would much rather return home and share his peoples fate rather than survive here in this lonely mountain.

Thranduil thought Thorin hated him, it was if he wanted to do everything in his power to reduce him…but he said ‘ _no_ ’ Thorin said he loved him which confused Thranduil more than he thought it would. The look of guilt that washed over Thorin’s featured softened Thranduil to the reality that everything Thorin had done up until this point was probably never his aim. It was never Thranduil’s intention to hurt Thorin either, mixed sentiment and unfamiliar emotions caused him to react inappropriately when Thorin was near…however, it did fill Thranduil with a sweet warmth when Thorin said he loved him, that he still loved him.

And yet Thranduil could not find it in himself to return those words, he needed time and patience from Thorin if he was ever to consider this emotion more. “I’m sorry, it was never my intention to cause you such turmoil…I will stay and hopefully we can find an agreement in which satisfaction will be gained by the both of us.” Thranduil said leaving the room to return to his own as Thorin had requested.

 

* * *

 

 

One of the dwarf’s guardsmen watched in distaste as the Elvin King Thranduil entered King Thorin’s study, and not too long after he left going to his own chamber. 

 _Why is our King wasting his time with this elf!?_   He thought to himself, he had previously been stationed outside the elf’s room and he could hear the activities within, and it truly disgusted him that his King would deplete and reduce their supplies simply to gain sexual favors from an elf. It was reckless and irresponsible, how much would he sacrifice just to keep this elf close to his bed!?

This couldn’t continue! Either this elf needed to leave the mountain or Thorin needed to discard him…or better yet, Thorin should be called out in front of everyone for his careless behavior, if he couldn’t control himself he was unfit to be King. Allowing an elf to lead him about by the nose was disgraceful, had he completely forgotten what this Elf King had done to them! He had left them to the dragon, their people all scattered to the winds, refused to aid them and even sided alongside men to try and wage war against them! This could not stand! Something had to be done!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: We both are thrilled at the amount of response this fic has been getting! Thank you to all who have been reading this and to those who dropped a comment. It really boosts us and motivates us. Thank you all!
> 
> _Warning: This chapter contains graphic description of rape. Please scroll ahead if it doesn't agree with you._

“And if we should make the convoy head West and take the route through Laketown and Anduin, the supplies will reach faster,” Thorin ended his discussion eyeing the councilmen once over. When he was met with silence, he frowned and asked, “Is your silence a gesture of good faith or is it simply because you have no questions to be asked?”

The councilmen glanced at each other and hesitated a great while, as if they were waiting for anyone to take up charge and approach their king. This irritated Thorin to no end. Over the past few days a trend had washed over his advisors who instead of showering him with their doubts and questions now kept quiet and had this form of silent communications among each other.

“Well then that is final.” Thorin adjudicated sternly, narrowing his eyes. Finally, one cleared his throat and meekly approached him, making the dwarf king tilt his head curiously.

“Your Majesty,” the advisor began making Thorin raise his brow, silently ordering him to continue. The dwarf took the cue and went on, but not before casting one more glance over his shoulder at the others, “This act of benevolence...it is certainly great kindness on your part.”

He paused and Thorin’s frown deepened. “Yes?”

“But what we feel—I should rather—don’t you think that Erebor has been generous enough?”

Thorin’s eyes hardened and he stared still, looking into the other, trying to see exactly what the dwarf had in his mind at that moment. Under his scrutinizing gaze, the dwarf visibly felt uncomfortable. He clearly wanted to be anything other than the king’s subject of focus. However, he held his ground and quickly lowered his eyes before it could be deemed insolence.

When he shifted his eyes over to the others, he could almost hear the dwarf breathe in relief. The others immediately became extremely alert and before they could explain in favor of their fellow advisor, Thorin asked, “Is that how you all feel? That Erebor has been more than generous?”

For a while no body spoke. When Thorin was about to dismiss it all, one finally did, “Yes Your Majesty.”

Thorin cocked a brow. “And that is a huge concern because...?”

“Because winter approaches Sire.”

“I am aware of that.”

“And,” the second dwarf paused for the briefest of moments before he continued with a voice full of tact, “And depleting resources without any gain in return will cost us.”

“And who says there is no gain to be had?” Thorin was becoming annoyed. He did not like how the conversation was going neither was he liking its direction.

Well...no disrespect My King,” another advisor piped in on whom, Thorin immediately swiped his glance. However, this one did not flinch. Rather, he spoke with a steely determination which Thorin expected but did not like the feel of at that very moment. “But our history with Mirkwood is less than a courteous one. And they have promised nothing that will help us and even if they did, they have not submitted a written agreement.”

Those words made Thorin bristle. The indignation, the insubordination—never in his life had he thought he would be subjected to those from his own subjects. His eyes flickered with anger; his jaws became harder, his hands balled into fists and as he breathed deepened in order to control himself, his fists got clenched tighter and tighter till his knuckles became extremely prominent and white hot as blood ran away from those spots of sheer pressure.

“Then am I to take it that you do not trust my judgment? That you dare question me?” He somehow managed to say through grit teeth, chewing every word as if they were pieces of distasteful leather.

He waited for a few more moments, eyeing the dwarf with every bit of attention he had. The more he did, the brighter the flame in his eyes burned and it burned all the more because the dwarf before him showed barest traces of apology or humility. He was half expecting another indignant response from the other.

After what seemed like hours, the dwarf finally lowered his eyes, stepped back and hesitantly shook his head. At that, Thorin lifted his chin up, the flame in his eyes subsiding by just a small amount before he glanced once more at the others and turned.

“See to it that the plan is executed well.” He commanded and left.

He did not get the chance to notice the cloud casting over at the advisor who spoke last. He did not see the shadow falling over other’s faces.

 

* * *

 

 

Thranduil slowly walked the corridors of the mountain palace; it was unusually quiet, Thranduil always suspected the mountain to be alive with noise, the bustle of mining dwarves, they were not exactly a reserved or non-candid race so it was peculiar to Thranduil how hushed it was. His own palace was not nearly as silenced, he could always hear the rushing of waterfalls, and delicate music often floated throughout the woodland realm…he missed his home almost desperately and more than that he worried about their future and prayed that everything would be all right and once his kingdom was restored he would be able to pay Thorin back for everything he had done…he justly wished he could give Thorin what he truly wanted, but it seemed impossible to Thranduil, he knew he didn’t hate Thorin but he also knew he didn’t love him either…although when Thon declared his love for a second time Thranduil didn’t dismiss the idea as had the first time, he had actually considered it and the since then it had played over in his head many times.

Thranduil sighed as he walked, while Thoirn had allowed him to leave his room, he still ordered that he stay inside the palace on not go outside though. At first Thranduil was elated that he could leave his room but lately it had become somewhat warning. Some of the dwarfs that happened to pass him the hallways were usually polite or they simply ignored him but lately he had noticed heated stared and angry glances directed toward him and he wasn’t exactly sure as to why, he never spoke much with anyone except Thorin, so the resentment he felt from the other dwarves concerned him almost to the point where he would stay in his room to avoid the unwanted attention or possible confrontation.

Although this time he decided a short walk to the library would do no harm, usually the library was empty and Thranduil always had a fondness for books as he went along the selves looking for something interesting that he could lose himself within, it would be nice not to think for at least a little while.

 

* * *

 

 

The chamber was dark and still. No light entered it, none left it and the only source of illumination was a burning candle whose soft light gradually evaporated into the darkness all around. Silence stretched across the chambers. Eeriness covered it and all about, a sort of ominous feeling grasped the entire ambiance. The silence was disturbed extremely carefully by hushed whispers of two beings whose shadows danced with the flickering light.

 “This proposition is madness”, said one in smoldering fury. “The king is wise but elf dims his wit.”

“He depletes all our food and ration and for what? So that he can have trysts with the elf?” The other chimed in, his voice wavering with anger he was finding hard to suppress. “This is not our king. This is not how he behaved before.”

 “You have seen it, have you not?” The first one said exasperatedly, “The way he was looking...the way he spoke, the way he now acts, how he thinks—nothing is clear.”

“Oh I have seen it, my friend. I see it in his eyes. They burn and they grow dark. If only it was lust.”

“Do you think it could be *that*?” One of them trailed off, earning a grave nod from the other. At that, he breathed out and whispered; though the whisper was not only out of fear or concern. Underlying it all, there was trace of another emotion—undetermined but most certainly present. “Durin’s Bane.”

 “This is grave, Dimo. For an ailing king is unfit to rule.”

“Then what do you propose Harrak?”

“Depose him.”

 “Ah, his heirs are strong enough,” Dimo said catching what Harrack was about to unravel.

“And they are young. Impressionable. They need guidance. And with them by our side, we have enough strength to be done with the king.”

“But what if they too succumb to his fate?” Dimo asked with slight concern.

Harrak paused. Then he answered in a grave tone which had a sense of finality to it. “Then they will share his fate.”

Suddenly, Dimo tensed and quickly snuff out the candle. Harrak was about to ask the reason for his action but before he could even do so; Dimo ran out of the chamber at full speed and crashed into something. Harrak soon followed. He stopped abruptly at what lay in front of him, his eyes wide with shock.

“This one was quiet,” said Dimo as he straddled a struggling elf—the elf—clamping his hand over his mouth. “But not quiet _enough_.” He turned towards Harrack and asked in a suggestive tone, “I wonder how much he has heard.”

The elf moaned and struggled even harder, causing Dimo to press himself further onto the elf before he shifted his attention at Harrack.

Harrack eyed the elf for a while. Finally, he said in a chilling voice, “Help me bring him inside where we shall not be disturbed. Let us find out then. And make sure he forgets.”

  

* * *

 

Thranduil had stayed in the Library until it had become late into the night. He had only a single candle that barely lit the pages of the book laid open before him as he silently read. He had placed himself at the far corner of the Library, where if anyone did enter they would not notice him; he wanted to limit his contact with the other inhabitants of the mountain as much as possible. Thranduil had entertained the thought that some of the dwarfs simply didn’t like elves in general but in a few he found that it wasn’t his race they were scrutinizing it was him, something about him they despised and it left Thranduil feeling troubled and worrisome, so avoidance was his best option…it wasn’t as if he could retaliate for someone _looking_ at him, no matter how threatening it may be.

He was about to dismiss his thoughts when his ears caught the door to the library opening and hushed voices. The two new occupants were being very quite but elf’s heading was extraordinary, he could easily hear every word they said and as their conversation went on his feeling of worry intensified into alarm.

 _No, Thorin isn’t succumbing to the sickness!_ Thranduil thought as they continued their conversation that Thorin was becoming mad. Thranduil would have noticed if Thorin was truly being affected by Durin’s curse, it was true there was a change in him but after the years of poverty and battle Thorin endured he would unquestionably be different. He had grown to be a very honest and just King! They were questioning his very capability because he extended his hand to aid Mirkwood?

Thorin had already endured too much to reclaim his Throne and to only be thrown into exile by his own kin? It was far too cruel and Thranduil simply couldn’t allow it! He felt he had to warn Thorin of this plot, he wanted to protect Thorin from this danger, and this feeling was almost overwhelming in its intensity which confused Thranduil. He didn’t expect such a strong reaction to the prospect of Thorin being in jeopardy, but he knew that he couldn’t simply allow this threat to pass…he knew he needed to warn Thorin.

Thranduil began to slowly make his way toward the door left slightly ajar, he was perfectly silent, elf’s were not clumsy or loud so he hoped the others would not hear him leave. He had made it safely outside the door but as he began to calmly walk away his foot caught a loose tile and without thinking he ran although he did not get far, his body made a forceful contact with one of the dwarfs as he was knocked to the floor roughly. He was about to yell but his wrists were seized and a firm hand clamped over his mouth to keep him from being heard. He struggled with the hold feeling the pressure the dwarf was putting on him, his weight was not to be taken lightly either, Thranduil’s breathing haven already been constricted due to the hand over his mouth.

Thranduil’s original fear for Thorin soon mixed into a panic for them both as he was practically dragged into the closest room by the two dwarfs. While worried Thranduil was furious that they would treat him in such a way to being with, they apparently held no apathy for their own King so it was no wonder they would treat a King from another realm with no regard but it still burned Thranduil as he struggled more violently with the two determined to break free of their grasp.

Dimo let Harrack take control while he dashed to close and latch the door. He turned and rushed back where Harrack already released Thranduil and threw him on to the floor, pinning his wrists firmly.

“Now then,” said Harrack with a dangerous tone, “Let us not pretend you were filtered of any information. What I am concerned with is how much you know.”

The elf was still struggling, glaring at both of them with nothing but spite in his eyes. Harrak’s face twisted with disgust and without any warning, he struck the elf and spat his words, “You come clean or you struggle. Just know that the harder you make it for us, the harder we will make it for you, you loathsome creature!”

Thranduil was more stunned then he was hurt when the dwarf struck him, it was pure surprise more than anything else. He growled at the one who struck him glaring daggers. “How dare you!” He screamed in defiance. “Loathsome! You have the audacity to call me such a thing! You treacherous scum!” Thranduil was not afraid, he was more angry than frightened. “You plot a scheme against your own King! This mountain would not be as it is without him and yet you still doubt! You have no right!” Thranduil tried to wrench himself from their grasp and although he was able to break their hold he couldn’t contend with them both.

“Silence!” Dimo screamed, squeezing Thranduil’s throat, unable to contain his anger. He could only take so much from their unstable king but to have fingers pointed at them by an elf? The very one for whom they were suffering for? It was all that he could bear. “You should not be the one to talk about right, you fiend! You make us the dragon’s feast, you poison the king’s mind and now you return enjoying our hospitality, our wealth and harvest while we wait and pay for it in winter?”

His chest was heaving with every breath he struggled to release. His eyes were flaring and his whole body was trembling by the very look the elf was sending at both of them. Dimo startled all of a sudden when the elf’s violent jerks succeeded in him breaking free from them.

He was quickly scrambling to his knees, quite prepared to dash off but Dimo soon snapped out of his shock and quickly followed Thranduil, grabbing the elf’s ankle before he was extremely out of reach, making him fall.

No sooner did Thranduil hit the ground, Dimo straddled him, flinching and wincing when Thranduil’s struggles hit his own self. Thranduil’s strong hands despite their dainty appearance were striking and clawing to break free from the both of them.

“We can’t have you leave,” he whispered and then called out to his partner, “We can’t have him leave! He knows enough.” Dimo said seizing the elf’s wrists into a powerful hold.

"Harrak quickly knelt down beside the elf, and ran a hand through his hair, grabbing and tugging at it roughly, making Thranduil to face him while the elf tried containing the pain he felt. “Oh he will not leave; not as how he should.” He directed his reply at the other dwarf all the while looking at Thranduil. The elf’s eyes were still glowering with rage but they sensed something else. Panic.

Harrak’s eyes began glistening with an idea which soon brought upon darkness to his face. “Audacity you say? Scum, are we?” His tone was grim. The corners of his lips tugged as a slow and ominous smile crept on to his face. His free hand grabbed the tip of Thranduil’s chin, pressing it hard with his thumb and index till Thranduil’s mouth opened in reaction to the pain. Then he slid his hand down on to the elf’s chest, his fingers curling around the fabric before it was torn open with a foreboding sound.

He felt the elf still for a moment. He felt Dimo’s eyes upon him but instead of trying to stop him, when Dimo began ruffling through the elf’s robes and held the elf by his waist at the band of his breaches, Harrak’s smirk grew.“We’ll show you how audacious we can be.” 

When Thranduil hit the floor once more it dazed him enough for the two dwarfs to gain somewhat of the upper hand on him and although he managed to get a few glancing blows upon one of them it wasn’t enough to deter them. Thranduil wished sometimes he could keep his pride at bay; his mouth had gotten him into trouble one too many times and this was dangerous, he wasn’t sure what he could possibly do that would grant him release. He was struggling but when cool air hit his skin in froze him, he searched both their eyes for a moment until the realization of his situation hit him hard and fast.

“Stop!” Thranduil screamed loudly enough to break glass as he pulled one arm free slamming his fist hard against Harrak’s jaw while kicking Dimo in the ribs. He tried to gain his footing only to he tackled to the ground once more by Dimo. Thranduil groaned when his chest hit the ground and a weight was placed on top of him.

Dimo growled as he straddled the elf from behind grabbing a fistful of Thranduil’s hair and slamming his head hard against the stone floor. “We need to ensure your silence.” He growled his grip becoming unbearably tight. “Your actions will only cause more harm than good, after all we don’t have to exile our dear King…we could always just kill him instead.” He said in low deadly tone which made Thranduil his valiant struggle for a moment as he fully absorbed the words.

“Well…” Dimo said not expecting that reaction from Thranduil. “It seems you care about what happens to him, is it more important than what happens to you?” Dimo said next to the elfs ear. Dimo turned his full attention o Harrak “It’s no wonder our King is so smitten with him, maybe we don’t need to exile him at all, what say you Harrak?” He asked keeping his hand pressed firmly in the small of Thranduil’s back to keep him on his chest and restrict his movement.

Harrak was taken aback as well by Thranduil’s reaction. He expected the elf to lash out and throw more insults—for he surely hadn’t shown any signs of care for their king while Thorin made it no secret of his obsession with the elf. So when Thranduil stilled entirely, a realization dawned on him—the very same Dimo spoke out loud.

Soon his astonishment broke away, the gears in his mind already churning while he smirked at the entire new turn of events.

He tilted his head and palmed the side of Thranduil’s cheek.

 “The king is mad,” he whispered, moving his hand towards Thranduil’s nape, grabbing a fistful of the elf’s hair. “He can bring his own death in his fit. And you will witness. You will see it all happening before your eyes—all over again—and you will break. We will break you. If only you had not been at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

He pulled Thranduil’s hair hard  craning his neck back as far as possible and at the slightest parting of Thranduil’s lips, he crashed their mouths together, dragging his teeth along Thranduil’s lips, bruising them with his demanding kiss. He felt Thranduil’s struggles renewing and the more violent Thranduil became, Harrak’s resolve grew stronger. He shifted; pressing himself against one of Thranduil’s sides as he roughly tore away the elf’s robes. Thranduil jerked some more, still putting up a fight against his captors—thrashing wildly, squirming hard—anything to get away.

“Hold him!” Harrak yelled at the other, roughly turning Thranduil, trying to grab his wrists in his own hand. With much difficulty, Harrak used a torn piece of robe as a bind for Thranduil’s wrist. Having him secured, he rolled the elf over and swiftly settled between his legs.

He kept pressure on the elf while Dimo was working with whatever Thranduil still had on him. The elf’s struggles were becoming rougher. He was becoming more desperate and no matter how hard Harrak place his entire weight on top of Thranduil, the elf’s growing desperation somehow gave him more strength and willpower to break loose.

“Do what you must!” He barked, using his arm on Thranduil’s nape to keep him in place. “Make him pay! He is the root of all evils. He made our king so reckless to begin with! Let him suffer!”

Thranduil was at a complete loss for a moment, when the two dwarfs threatened Thorin’s life it chilled him to his very core. To exile Thorin was terrible in itself, so awful that Thranduil had to fight to save him from such a thing but now that their scheme had taken a darker turn and they were suggesting killing him…it struck Thranduil with an almost indescribable fear, the very thought horrified him, if Thorin was to die Thranduil wasn’t sure how that would make him feel, for terrible was simply not enough.

The touch of their hands broke him from his thoughts for a moment, their touch sickened him. Another’s touch had never felt like this before either, not even when Thorin was being rough with him did he hate it as much as he loathed this. He couldn’t be compliant with this, they said nothing to the effect they would not harm Thorin should he be resistant so there was nothing stopping him from fighting their every intention. He couldn’t witness Thorin falling once more, not after the dragon, not after the battle, not again…so he fought.

When one kissed him a wave nausea built within, the dwarf’s mouth was sour with wine and the painful hold on his hair only intensified. When they tore at his clothes it did enlist a reaction of panic, he cared for Thorin’s life but by no means did that mean he cared nothing for his own. He pulled away and thrashed violently with the two even when his hands were bound he still had the strength to defy them. They tore away his clothes so carelessly but he refused to be embarrassed about such a thing. He could feel the press of cloth against his own skin which made him involuntarily tremble, He felt a pair of hands once again grasp his throat but this time it was tighter and he couldn’t breathe, all other attempts to stop them ceased as he began to claw at the hands around his throat, he felt his vision black out for a moment and his struggling reduce significantly.

“Don’t let him pass out.” Dimo warned as Harrak’s hold lessened a little. “I want to see those eyes fill with tears.” He growled as he leaned closer to Thranduil running his tongue alongside his face. Dimo took Thranduil’s momentary lapse as an opportunity as he retrieved the small dagger from his side and pressed it threateningly against the elf’s throat when Harrak released him. “You struggle too much I might slip.”

He trailed the knife slowly down the length of Thranduil’s neck and down his chest, he added enough pressure so Thranduil could feel the sharpness of the blade but not hard enough to break the skin. He used the knife to cut away ay remaining clothing until Thranduil was laid completely bare to them both.

Harrak’s eyes shone brightly as he witnessed Dimo’s hands roaming over the slender and smooth body—the same on which his tongue met. He gulped out of reflex, a slow and dark fire spreading across his chest, rolling in him a lust which Harrak never truly felt before. He loathed the elf, he hated him with all his might, but now as he saw Thranduil splayed before him, as he saw how demanding Dimo’s tongue and teeth were as they left marks, he couldn’t suppress his basic instinct any more.

His hold loosened slightly. He leaned forward, grating his teeth on the bare skin where the elf’s long neck met the arch of his sharp shoulders. He turned the elf’s face at an odd angle and his lips hungrily landed upon those of the elf’s, teasing it roughly, attacking it till he felt Thranduil’s tightly grit teeth which refused him any access.

Obsessed, Harrak slid a hand under Thranduil, clawing and clenching at any skin his fingers touched upon till he felt the length of a member. Immediately, Thranduil’s reaction was to curl upon himself, to become one with the ground. But Harrak was stronger. Darkness surrounded him which fed him strength. He overpowered Thranduil and grabbed his member, kneading it for his own pleasure while his own grew less and less flaccid.

He heard Dimo speak something to him but he registered only a little of what was said. The elf’s eyes were drooping close. His struggles were lessening, as if he was trying to transport himself to a world entirely different from the reality.

The thought made Harrak burn with anger. The elf was escaping mentally. He was trying to find a way out to endure. And that was what really pierced Harrak more than anything. The elf was trying to endure. He wasn’t giving in to the shame, he wasn’t pleading but he wanted to *endure*.

His eyes flickered with a sudden desire of meeting the elf in the eye. He wanted to see the suffering, the pain and shame which he once brought upon Harrak’s people. He wanted to have the elf be shown where his place truly lay and what it meant to be the king’s concubine and to loot them of their precious resources which they worked hard to gather.

Without any warning, he yanked Thranduil’s hair and pulled hard so that Thranduil’s daze was quickly fading away, pain creeping in his eyes which were slowly widening as he realized the true extent of the horror around him.

Dimo was already doing away with his own breaches, rocking and swaying against the violent fight Thranduil had put up all of a sudden. This prompted Harrak to undo his own pants and stretch and straddle Thranduil’s legs, soon joined by his companion. And then, without any warning, he inserted himself in the elf’s body, a morbid delight feeling him when the elf’s back arched in pain and hisses echoed off the walls.

He was pushing himself deeper and deeper when Thranduil hissed and moaned again, jerking roughly before trembling and letting his heaved breathing quiet down the scream which was building up in his throat.

Suddenly, Harrak felt another body beside him, almost pushing him to make space as some more rocking and swaying took place.

He heard a grunt which made Harrak look beside him, a smirk soon creeping up on his lips. Dimo decided against waiting. 

Thranduil’s body recoiled from the sensation of lips and teeth grazing and biting his flesh, from the feeling of hands touching him, grabbing him and bruising his skin in their carelessness and brutality. He was trying to remain somewhat still so not cause himself further harm, he wanted to thrash and shove that dagger into their bellies but that was a wish to far. It took far too much energy to keep fighting them, and with the number of times he missed it was only making it harder for him to retaliate and easier for them to continue their assault. He was relieved when the knife was removed, although that feeling was short lived when demanding and hungry lips claimed his own, he could feel his lip split open when their teeth clashed together Thranduil refusing to open his mouth to allow this dwarf entrance. He shook his head trying to get away as he pushed his body as far away as he possibly could in avoidance.

He couldn’t help but gasp when this brazen dwarf took hold if his member, he was almost sure he meant this as to generate some type of pleasure but the vice like grip only caused more pain to overwhelm his senses, these dwarfs were trying to intentionally hurt him un unfortunately they were succeeding, he was trying his best to remain silent and resilient to their actions but it was becoming less and less bearable. He couldn’t take this much longer.

Thranduil closed his eyes trying to push all sensation and feeling from his body, he couldn’t struggle anymore but it didn’t matter if he could focus long enough he could escape this and his struggling was too weak now to have any effect other than irritation to the dwarfs. He would not give these dwarfs the satisfaction of having him beg, seeing his cry, he couldn’t allow them the break him…he reached further into his own mind trying to find his escape but he was violently brought back to reality before he managed to do so.

Harrak and pulled so viciously upon his hair that it tore his scalp open, and Thranduil was forced to reconcile with all the pain, the sensations all coming back at once hitting him so hard he thought he would faint. His escape had been blocked and he was almost positive he would not be given a second chance so he tried once more to escape physical rather than mentally but it seemed as if the adrenaline rush within the dwarfs gave them unmatched strength and power over Thranduil he was losing this fight…he had lost.

Thranduil almost screamed when he felt Harrak enter him, the action was so abrupt and unexpected it struck Thranduil hard, he hadn’t been expecting it at all and they were not so kind as to prepare as use anything to make the action easier so the burning pain to followed this action forced his body to arch and contract in an attempt to escape the unwanted invasion. The back of Thranduil’s eyes stung with tears but he clenched his eyes shutting them tightly, not allowing any tears to fall. _‘It will stop soon, they will finish soon’_

He was distracted momentarily when he felt another body close to his own rocking against him in almost the same motion as Harrak not sure what the other was trying to accomplish. He felt Harrak lift him up from the ground, pulling him to lean against the dwarfs broad chest as Dimo took place behind him so he was forced to kneel slightly in-between them, he was confused until he could feel more pressure at his already swollen entrance. He audibly gasped upon realizing their intentions as he actually pulled himself closer to Harrak trying to get away from Dimo also it only served to further skewer himself upon Harrak’s arousal and trap him in an even tighter hold between the two.

Thranduil winced as Dimo pushed against him. “Please…please not that.” He said a tremble rushing through his body. He didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of hearing him beg but this was too much, he could hardly bear this assault as it was.

Dimo shoved Harrak a little, pressing himself against the elf’s raw entrance. Harrak moved and he settled on the other side of the elf. A jolt of excitement ran through his body when his hardening member felt the pulsating entrance which was rocking and trembling with Harrak’s every move. He grabbed hold of the elf’s waist and was about to move in when the wretched being shifted more towards Harrak, eliciting an annoyed grunt from the other dwarf.

He felt Harrak push himself more within and pull the elf even closer, prompting Dimo to wrap his arms tightly around the elf’s waist and shift himself as well so that he was in a favorable position.

Then, without any consideration, he pushed himself in as well, groaning in a sick pleasure as he felt the hot walls surrounding him and a throbbing heat surrounding him and filling him up from within. He pushed himself more, feeling the elf quiver and wince when Harrak too thrust himself further in.

He paused slightly, raising a brow at what the elf spoke. Ah, so he was scared. He was finally begging. He cast a side glance at his partner who too was looking back with an eerie glint in his eyes. And just like that, both of them ignored Thranduil’s pleas as they together thrust themselves in and out at an alternating pace, grunting, heaving, groaning at the relishing feeling which filled them both.

Dimo stopped momentarily, readjusting himself and tightening his grip on the elf before he again thrust himself—and with each moment that passed by, his thrusts became faster, more desperate and impatient. The elf’s body was trembling violently, not built to handle the pain he was being inflicted with.

Harrak’s pace increased as well. His breathing was labored and heavy, his movements becoming more and more reckless as he often collided with his partner.

Dimo felt energy down his spine as his member was throbbing now, weeping for release. Clumsily, he reached for the elf’s member, almost fighting with Harrak till they both had a hold of it. They both began stroking it roughly and with no traces of passion as their thrusts grew even faster, despite the sticky and wet feeling which was soon surrounding them, seeping out from the elf’s entrance.

Finally, Dimo came, spilling himself all inside Thranduil. His body was extremely sensitive, his senses numbed and for the briefest of moments, his eyes fluttered shut as an overwhelming sensation took him over.

He felt Harrack gasping and shuddering as well, leaning against the elf with a huge sigh. He had come as well.

The elf was still stroked. Now that the dwarves had been relieved, they could now focus entirely upon making Thranduil come as well. At least that was what was residing in Dimo’s mind and by the franticness observed from the other dwarf; he could guess what Harrak thought as well.

It wasn’t long before they felt something warm and trickling between their fingers as the elf rolled his back and gasped out painfully.

With a few final dry humps, Dimo released the elf and got up to dress himself. Harrak stayed for a while longer and when he was fully done, he threw the elf on the ground and clothed himself while trying to catch his breath.

“Now,” said Dimo, “Let’s see how he rattles.”

 _‘Too much, too much, please stop!’_ Thranduil thought desperately but with each push and pull of his body it only severed to send him from one to the other and back again, there was no escaping this pain. Oh, and by the valar it hurt, he couldn’t contain screaming and moaning in distress, he was surprised that no one heard him, he was praying that someone would come and  put an end to this but no one came…he was left alone to suffer.

They didn’t stop; there were no pauses in the assault their paces frantic and erratic although sometimes fluid and in sync but neither were less painful. When Dimo forced himself inside alongside Harrak Thranduil could feel his body tearing from the intrusion, there wasn’t even the smallest semblance of regard for what they were doing to him, they seemed determined to get their release by any means.

Thranduil felt hot breath against his skin as arms and hands wrapped around him and grasped him so tightly he thought they would break him, although in a few moments they simply slumped against him their breathing heavy although it soon slowed. Thranduil for a moment was relived although it was short lived as they then grasped his member and began to gently stroke it.

Thranduil protested but they either ignored him or didn’t hear him because they didn’t stop, one would think with the pain still fresh in his mind and the various wounds on his body that he would not be able to become aroused but unfortunately he couldn’t will his body to *not* respond and he shamefully gave into the pleasure they forced upon him, a temporary numbness and release was granted with this action although all too soon the harsh reality of the situation came rushing back.

Thranduil stayed where they had carelessly left him on the floor blankly staring at the wall, he felt somewhat numb a coldness creeping over his body making him shiver and curl up into a tight ball. His body was alive with pain yet numb from the blatant shock of everything as his emotions shifted from wanting to cry in pain or stay silent in distress. Thranduil heard one of the dwarfs speak but he couldn’t make out the words, his mind was a jumble of thoughts and emotions he couldn’t bring himself to think straight or try and understand anything at this point.

  

* * *

 

Some of the dwarves who had gathered in the throne room watched with mixed interest as Harrak and Dimo stepped in. They were extremely calm and strode in with a leisure which was not there since that morning after the encounter with their king.

“Where were you?” Asked one.

“Attending business,” was the reply he received from Harrak. “Where are the supplies?”

“They have been sent.”

“And how fares the warehouse?”

“Almost spent.” The dwarf answered with a smoldering anger flickering in his eyes.

Harrak nodded once and glanced at Dimo, motioning him to follow. Enough damage had been done. They could risk no more.

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: We don't own a single thing...unfortunately...
> 
> AN: Oookay, so this is getting really thick and doing the 'angst' tag a good deal of justice. Hm. Yep, this one's pretty 'angsty' but that's how we roll, right? ;)
> 
> Thank you to everyone who've read. reviewed and subscribed to our fic. We are so grateful, thank you all!!

Thorin waited patiently till the audit was read and the resources in stock were tallied. The dwarf who was providing the information did so in a monotonous voice but even in that atmosphere, he felt that something was simply not right. He glanced tersely at the council. They were all silent, bowing to him and standing stiff—as if any movement without his command would bring upon wrath and ruin.

He frowned and again focused on the dwarf reading before him. There was definitely something which Thorin couldn’t point his finger. The ambiance was too calm that it made his skin crawl. His heart was anxious and his mind warned him.

_But from what?_

The dwarf finished reading and looked up. Thorin raised a brow and stood from his throne, taking in his subject with intense eyes.

He waited for any of the others to raise some questions but when none came, that was when some confusion started building nest in his heart.

“None of you have anything to say?” He asked dubiously, well aware that his council was not one of those who took things for granted. Not before they split everything by the fiber.

The others shook their head in response, leaving Thorin to let out a frustrated sigh and take his leave. He had not remembered it being that difficult to run a kingdom. Unbeknownst to him, his legs carried him out of pure instinct, taking turns around the corridor till he was standing right in front of a very familiar pair of decorated wooden panels.

He placed a palm on one of them and pressed slightly but soon decided against it as his heart twisted with a sudden churning pain.

Was he really ready to face dejection again? He let out a sigh and pressed till the door opened.

Who was he trying to fool? He knew well enough he couldn’t stay away and being in Thranduil’s company—rejected or not—still made him feel better than the suffocating atmosphere which was created in his halls.

He slowly entered the chambers, eyes searching keenly for the elf. When they finally landed on a corner, Thorin could not help but feel his heart drop once at what he saw.

Thranduil was huddled in a corner, his face turned away; sitting absolutely still and gazing at a spot just below the window which had nothing interesting about it save for the delicate painting decorating the patch of wall.

“Am I nonexistent now?” He asked, not feigning to hide the sadness when Thranduil didn’t even flinch at the heavy sound of his boots.

 

 

After Thranduil’s assault he waited until it was the dead of night to return to his chamber, his clothes were torn and shredded and he barely had enough o cover himself modestly and was grateful that his room was not too far as he feared unwanted questions from anyone who might see him.

He took an incredibly hot and long bath almost scrubbing himself raw on some places as if to remove any trace of the other dwarfs upon him. He was angry and worried for himself and for Thorin but he was unsure o what to do, they had threatened Thorin’s life if he was to speak of this to anyone and that was enough to ensure his silence. After bathing he glanced at himself in the mirror proof of their assault was evident on his body and tomorrow when their actions matured he would look even worse, he could feel numerous bruises under his skin that would be clearly visible by the next day…he needed to hide them so not to raise any suspicion. He opted to wear long necked tunics and long gloves with his regular attire and that would suffice to conceal everything he had suffered except for his face…they were foolish to his him so hard in the face, and his torn scalp wasn’t much better as it took forever to stop the bleeding and he was sure he would be sporting some rather ugly bruises. He needed to hide this, if only to protect Thorin if not himself.

 

 

Two days, it had been two days since Thranduil’s encounter with Harrak and Dimo, they seemed to know that Thorin would not visit him every day; it was usually every two or three days that he would come by so he had plenty of time to heal. Physically Thranduil knew he would be all right but mentally he was still reeling from the encounter and he couldn’t shake the feeling away no matter how hard he tried. He felt vulnerable and weak, and what was worse was that he had tried, he tried so hard to stop them, yet it wasn’t enough he still failed and that alone he couldn’t forgive himself for.

For a few moments he chided himself for his fickle nature with partners, he had always been very sexual as a person, the main reason why for all the trouble he had with Thorin, but this time it was different. He had had a few encounters with people that he wished he hadn’t but it had never felt like this before, this was different something threatening and terrible that he couldn’t pass off as just a bad encounter no matter how much he wanted to. He leaned against the wall and slumped to the floor in the corner of the room simply staring blankly at the wall…could he forget this? Could he forget their touch, his own shameful participation, could he protect Thorin without defying their direct orders? Thranduil was lost at the moment unclear on what should do.

He heard his door open and heavy footsteps walk toward him but he didn’t acknowledge them, he knew it was Thorin he could always tell by the way he walked, he carried himself like a King should…Thranduil’s mind briefly remembered he still wanted to warn Thorin but he was concerned that if he opened his mouth sending Thorin into exile would no longer be an option and they would kill him instead and that was enough reason for him to keep silent about everything he heard and everything that had been done to him. He couldn’t even bring his gaze up to meet Thorin’s eyes, he felt too ashamed.

Thorin felt his heart sink even more when he received not a single twitch from Thranduil as a response. He approached the elf and knelt beside him, bringing one hand up to gently stroke the lush golden locks which seemed to flow down Thranduil’s shoulders and back like a gentle waterfall.

However he gasped when the barest of his touch made Thranduil flinch, causing him to grow visibly tense. Thorin quickly withdrew his hand and stared incredulously at the floor, his eyes flickering to and fro as he tried comprehending what just happened.

Was he so detested that Thranduil now couldn’t even stand his touch? Yes he threatened, acted brash, forced Thranduil to come and stay in the mountains but did Thranduil not know that he did not *want* to do this? That he *had* to? Did Thranduil not know why Thorin acted the way he did? Did he not hear Thorin’s declaration of love?

His heart throbbed with a sharp ache and he paled all the more as a cruel realization dawned on him.

Or did Thranduil not deem it sincere?

Heartbroken, Thorin slowly rose from the floor and took a few steps back but not before dropping a piece of parchment on the elf’s lap.

“I sent the rest,” he said quietly, heavy legs dragging him away from the one he loved. “I thought you should know.”

He turned, ready to leave the room. He least expected Thranduil to call him back but it was hope nonetheless, no matter how small it was.

Thranduil couldn’t help but flinch when Thorin touched him, for some reason when Thorin reached for him he couldn’t help but tense, although he immediately regretted his reaction at hearing how surprised Thorin was…and in all honesty it wasn’t terrible it was a simple and gentle caress, and at the moment he wanted Thorin to reach out again so he could lean into that touch so he could absorb the warmth and affection to possibly rid himself of this chill wracking his body. _‘Please touch me again’_ he thought, wishing he could say those words.

When the parchment hit Thranduil’s lap his heart froze, the supplies the things Mirkwood needed so desperately had been sent…these items were the reason that Thorin’s entire Kingship was being scrutinized and judged, maybe Harrak and Dimo were right, that everything was his fault that their King was falling because of him, he didn’t want to believe it…but it was true that Thorin depleted their supplies so that Thranduil’s people would survive. Those two dwarfs were planting seeds of doubt into some of the most powerful figures of Thorin’s council, they were saying he was succumbing to the sickness of Durin…but he wasn’t, that much Thranduil knew and he wanted so desperately to warn him, but he couldn’t, if Harrak or Dimo were to find out what he had done Thorin would not be the only one hurt and Thranduil didn’t want to suffer like that ever again. When Thorin stood up to leave Thranduil’s heart seized in his chest and he didn’t want him to go.

“Stop.” Thranduil said as Thorin was about to leave. “Thank you.” Thranduil said softly swallowing thickly before continuing. “I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel unwelcomed, stay…please.” Thranduil said, slowly bringing himself to his feet although he winced from the unwanted movement. His body was healing more slowly than usual and some areas were still tender and sore.

You want me to stay?” He asked turning towards the other as hope caressed his heart. “I do not want to gain any favors from you. Not today. You still want my company?”

The more he spoke, the more perplexed he became. This was certainly a first. Not two days before, Thranduil had made it extremely clear that he was acting as Thorin wanted him to. So now that the elf expressed his eagerness, Thorin couldn’t help but wonder why.

Thranduil was slowly rising and somehow, he seemed to lack his usual grace. Thorin couldn’t determine it yet but he was sure that there was something which was not usual in the elf that very day. The room was dimly lit by the rays of the sun. The curtains were drawn in such a manner than whatever light filtered in was cold and lacked the traces of warmth while winter approached. The light fell on Thranduil’s slender body, outlining it and rendering it with a cool glow which slowly merged with the elf’s shadowed face.

Even in that condition, Thorin noticed that Thranduil did not look like himself. He looked haunting.

“What has happened with you?” He asked more to himself, feelingly suddenly cold with an unknown sense of trepidation.

Thranduil simply shook his head as he took a seat near the hearth and decided to avoid the question entirely as to what was wrong. “I still want your company.” He said softly.

A small part of Thranduil feared that when Thorin left he would be visited once more by Harrak and Dimo; they had threatened to do so to ensure his silence after Thorin’s visit with him. They were concerned that Thorin would notice Thranduil’s injuries, and they didn’t believe Thranduil when he told them they had not laid together and Thorin was not the type to use force, he had promised them that Thorin would not notice…but they said they would want proof of the fact later.

Thranduil looked at the floor as he spoke to Thorin. “Please tell me your people are not suffering as a result of the supplies being sent to my people…I realize I should have considered that long before now but it have been weighing heavily on my mind recently.” He did worry a little about Erebor when he requested the supplies but his own peoples suffering had outweighed his care at the time.

Thorin softened when Thranduil answered honestly and he retraced his steps back and took his place right next to the elf. He saw Thranduil tensing at first but eventually, he relaxed.

For a great while, none spoke. The only sound which broke the stretch of silence between them was the sound of a small fire crackling in the hearth, emitting a soft orange glow which fell delicately on Thranduil.

Thorin smiled to himself. He still had it engraved in his mind the sight of Thranduil sitting in front of a camp fire, tending it gently. He had a serene look on his face and his eyes sparkled as the warm flames outlined his face. He looked enchanting.

However, there was a small voice whispering at the back of his head. It told him again and again that this Thranduil was very different from the one not two days ago. This Thranduil was more reserved and Thorin had not the slightest idea why he was lacking his luster.

Thorin was utterly surprised when Thranduil voiced his concern. He did not care or thought about it or even if he did, he certainly didn’t show an interest of pointing out to Thorin.

_Why now?_

“Then you should’ve raised the question long before now,” replied Thorin with an uncharacteristic sharpness to his voice. He saw Thranduil reacting to his sudden change in tone and as a result of that, he quickly apologized and said, “You need not concern yourself. We will strive well. Worry about your own.”

He narrowed his eyes and peered at the other. Thranduil still made it a point of avoiding gazes and keeping his face away from Thorin as much as he could. The elf did not meet gazes; neither did he have his usual authority while speaking. It was as if humility was enforced upon the elf.

True, he once wanted just that. But now, seeing Thranduil so demure, he wasn’t sure if he wanted this in the first place.

Suddenly his eyes widened as shock filled him. Without a further word, he reached out and held Thranduil’s chin, tipping it slightly before retracting in pure horror.

A side of Thranduil’s lip was swollen and marred with a discoloring bruise. It was very faint—at the last stages of healing—but it was _there._

“Where did you get this?” he growled, suddenly fearful of the countless possibilities which flooded his mind.

Was Thranduil so desperate that he...that he bedded someone else? Was that why he seemed so humble?

“Where did you get this?” he asked again, this time raising his voice when Thranduil refused to answer. “Tell me!”

Thranduil simply shook his head ‘ _no_ ’ he feared his voice would betray him if he was to say anything. “You should go now.” He said pulling away but Thorin seized his wrists preventing him from going too far. Strangely enough he didn’t want to ever tell Thorin what had happened, he only wanted to warn him of the peril that lay ahead…but not what happened to him, never did he want Thorin to know about that.

When the pressure on his wrist intensified he tried pulling away from Thorin, it honestly hurt to stand but he ignored it for the moment, Thorin needed to leave now, he was asking questions that Thranduil simply couldn’t answer.

“It, it doesn’t matter.” Thranduil said trying to get Thorin to let the subject drop but the more Thranduil tried to avoid the subject the angrier Thorin became.

“It does!” Thorin hissed, startled when Thranduil broke free and stood up with abruptness’s which belay his previous demeanor. “It does to _me_!”

His heart was throbbing, stabbing him as his worst fears cemented in his mind. He exhaled and tried breathing but gasped out once more as the air refused to enter his lungs. His hands trembled and the voice in his mind grew shriller by the moment, throwing more questions at him the more he tried to think otherwise.

 “I thought at least you would keep your honor! I thought that you would at least contain yourself but here you prove me wrong yet again!” His throat became hoarse as he forced the words out of his mouth. The pangs in his chest worsened and with every breath he tried to take in, Thorin could feel sharpness of ice piercing him as doubt, suspicion and fear fought with each other for a place in his heart.

He looked up, his eyes dancing with trepidation as he tried to keep hold of Thranduil’s gaze but when the other refused to even so much as look at him, the anxiety he felt worsened, making his heart drop with a dead weight at the bottom of his chest, leaving behind a cold and chilly void.

 “Have you given up on me?” he finally asked, desperation lacing his voice and his entire feature. However by that point, Thorin didn’t bother to keep his majestic nature in place.

“You have not, have you?” He asked again, now fear subsiding and making way for anger. “Have you?”

Thranduil felt tears stinging the back of his eyes, he wanted to look at Thorin to tell him that he had not given up on him in the least…the more Thorin approached him the more Thranduil wanted him to do so but the recent events made fear seize Thranduil’s heart so tightly he thought the beating would stop. The chill that practically radiated from his own body intensified as he desperately wished it would freeze his heart so he wouldn’t have to feel this way…wouldn’t have to act this way.

“It was an accident, hardly worth becoming so concerned.” Thranduil said standing up straight his tone taking on a more hard and cold tone. It was much easier to pretend than to deal with the consequences of telling the truth. “If you think me so low as to take another into my bed you have lost your sanity, only dwarfs reside within these halls and that is hardly my preference.” The words stabbed Thranduil like cold steel, he didn’t want to say these things…but it was better for them both this way, if Thorin stayed away from him if he allowed him to leave or better yet ordered he leave the mountain it might lessen the tension and possibly save him from being thrown. Thranduil hoped that the ends would justify the means no matter how cruel it was.

“Given up?” Thranduil pondered the words for a moment, in some ways he felt he had done just that, he has surrendered himself to Thorin for his people’s lives and he now surrendered himself to others to preserve Thorin’s life…wasn’t that the exact definition of giving up? However, Thorin was asking if Thranduil have given up on him.

 _I never will give up on you,_ Thranduil thought as he closed his eyes.

“I do not believe in you…you belittle me, toy with me, humiliate, and ridicule me. You say you love me but I don’t understand why you feel the constant need to scorn me, does that make you happy? How could I not give up, I have resided myself to your whims and even when I show you acts of affection and pleasure you disregard them as if they are nothing…” Thranduil paused for a moment. “When I kissed you I was honest in the sincerity of that action, yet you cared not. It’s not me who has given up, it had always been you.” Thranduil swallowed thickly hating very word that spilled from his lips and struggled with his inner voice screaming at him to take it back, to throw himself and Thorin’s feet and tell him everything was a lie and that he was only trying to protect him but this was the only tool Thranduil had to protect Thorin with…even if that meant making Thorin hate him.

Thorin’s face couldn’t have shrunken any more when Thranduil’s cold and hard reply hit him hard. The words twisted his heart, stretched and pulled it in every direction and the fact that Thranduil did not even want to look at him only made the ache in his chest worsen.

The initial confusion and anger which marred his face slipped into grief before rage crept in once more.

He was so foolish. He believed that there was hope. That Thranduil—somewhere deep in his heart—really wanted to give Thorin a chance after everything that had transpired. He thought Thranduil understood him.

 “Not your preference,” Thorin choked out the words, looking scandalized and up at the other who decided to ignore him at all costs. Thorin clenched his fists and bit his lips. His eyes narrowed and his forehead toggled between having and not having a frown while he directed his entire energy at containing himself. “Yet you come to us when you have your needs.”

His chest ached hard. It was as if every single emotion he was feeling at the moment wanted to explode out of his heart and the more Thorin tried and prevent it from happening, greater the pain in his chest became.

His eyes widened when again Thranduil spoke. His tone was no less cruel than a hot blade plunging deeper and deeper into Thorin’s chest with every word that spilled from his mouth.

 “But they are acts which bear no value! Do you not realize that?” Thorin finally lashed out, agony seeping from his voice. He caught hold of Thranduil’s arm and spun him around, pulling him down so that they were at the same eye level.

“I do love you—always have, always will!” He cried out holding Thranduil by his arms, his voice wanting to crack under the burden of emotions welling up within him.  “It is your love which made me want to rise from the ragged beggar you saw all those years ago into one with honor and dignity!  It is your love that drove me towards this path and as wretched as it may sound, I never have regretted having you here. Never will I regret honoring the agreement for which you have set your foot in my kingdom.”

He was desperate, he was hurt and at that point, he could care less of being seen like the miserable mess he was if only Thranduil would look at him. Thorin was beyond rational thoughts. Hope, grief and heartbreak made him desperate, despondent and perhaps filled him with childish immaturity. He hoped that when Thranduil called him back out of his own will, things had changed between them. Not at a greater level but at least slightly.

He then lowered his voice and look into the others eyes, his own gaze uncertain and pleading. “Would you even come here had I not imposed such terms?”

He waited silently, hoping for any response from Thranduil which would prove wrong of what he already knew. However, when no such assurances came, Thorin smiled bitterly and released the elf. “You would not.”

He slowly rose up and headed for the door. This time too the same expectation rose within him, telling him to wait; that Thranduil would call him.

However, he soon shrugged out of such delusional thoughts and quickened his stride. 

He was still reeling from the coldness coming off from Thranduil and was almost willing to believe that whatever Thranduil said about his ‘ _accident_ ’ was anything but true. However, somewhere at the back of his mind, he truly wanted it to be the truth. For a voice which nagged him constantly did not rouse jealousy within him; nor grief. It roused a quiet form of fear, the cause of which was still as vague as mist itself.

Thranduil listened to everything Thorin said the pain in his chest only increasing with each word. The only time he thought about arguing with Thorin was when he said that Thranduil’s acts held no value; it actually sparked another emotion apart from grief in Thranduil, sheer and utter disbelief.

Thorin still did not think the kiss they shared meant anything to Thranduil, but it had if he had been given the chance he would prove to Thorin that it was real! That he wanted nothing more at the time but to feel his lips pressed against his own, he made a mistake when he spoke that night he should have just stayed silent and allow the emotion behind the action to reach Thorin but he had been a fool and accidentally enticed anger which clouded any reality of the situation. He understood why Thorin thought the way he did but he didn’t agree with him in the slightest.

He was pulled to his knees being the same level as Thorin but he still could not look him in the eye, Thranduil could not allow Thorin to think for even a moment he was lying and he feared his eyes would tell the truth. Thorin once again proclaimed his love and it tore Thranduil’s insides apart. _‘No! Do not love me! Hate me please!’_ His mind was sent into near hysterics as Thorin told him that his love was what had driven him all this time that it was his love that made him the proud and honorable king he as now…Thranduil couldn’t bear it if that same love tore him from his throne or worse yet claimed his life.

He paused for a moment when Thorin asked a final question which he simply couldn’t answer…it was true that Thranduil probably wouldn’t have come, wouldn’t have stayed, nor would he remain if it was not the terms Thorin required. However he hadn’t regretted it, just as Thorin had no regrets for having him here Thranduil had no regrets about staying.

When Thorin released him so abruptly and began to walk away it actually caused a panic to rouse in Thranduil as he reached out grabbing Thorin’s wrist the action being pure instinct. He grabbed Thorin’s tunic and pulled him forward their lips meeting once more. Thranduil wasn’t sure what he was thinking in doing this, he felt an overpowering desire to feel Thorin’s lips one last time and acted without thinking. He knew, at least he hoped, that Thorin would be angry with him for the rest of his days and that would sooth his advisors enough to not listen to a word others said otherwise…but he wanted this last taste from him, this dwarf King that held more influence and power over Thranduil than he realized, it wasn’t rational and it held no place in their current situation but if this was his last chance Thranduil would make the most of it and this time he would not speak afterward he would let the moment envelop him and he would treasure the moment forever.

Thorin huffed, staying absolutely still with initial shock and surprise. His brain was perplexed, over flooding with thousands of thoughts running in one after another.

Did Thranduil not mention he had no real interest in Thorin? Had he not mentioned that whatever he felt for Thorin was anything other than love? So why was he being so affectionate?

Thranduil’s lips were so soft and warm and as they gently pressed kisses on his own lips, Thorin quickly felt his confusion bleeding away as his mind chose to focus at the warm sensation slowly building in his heart.

His eyes fluttered shut and Thorin tilted his head, parting his lips before claiming Thranduil’s mouth with his own. He brought his hands up and cupped the elf’s cheeks, his lips moving with Thranduil’s, suckling at them and brushing them with his tongue before he parted his mouth even more, letting his tongue caress the inner lining of Thranduil’s lips, pleading to be invited inside.

His heart was racing, his mind was filled with scrambling thoughts but amidst it all, he was filled with a sudden bout of delight.

Thranduil willingly opened his mouth allowing Thorin to slip inside, his mouth was always so hot and the distinct taste of spiced cider and cinnamon consumed his senses. He remembered the taste vividly, he had never truly forgotten and he honestly loved it. This heat, these tastes, it was what drew Thranduil toward Thorin from the very beginning and he had never regretted embracing Thorin and he wasn’t regretting this.

Thranduil was not apprehensive with Thorin anymore, he at first was too confused and somewhat anxious of what the dwarf had in mind for him when he was told to stay in Erebor, but even with the countless opportunities he had been given he never crossed the line and hurt Thranduil. Thranduil could feel the quickened pace of Thorin’s heartbeat from the palms that gently cupped his face as he was drawn closer into a deeper more passionate kiss than before, Thorin’s hands leaving his face to wrap around him.

 _‘So warm’_ Thranduil thought as he hesitantly brought one hand to rest against Thorin’s bicep the other laid flat against the dwarfs chest so he could continue to feel the strong heartbeat beneath his palm. He felt he should push Thorin away but he couldn’t, this was real for him and he wanted this experience to last through his lifetime so he didn’t want to be the one to end it.

Thorin sighed deeply, feeling the warm welcome Thranduil provided. He felt an eager arm upon his bicep and another one gently placed on his chest, the touch slowly becoming firmer and surer, moving right where his heart was. Thorin responded with his mouth, his lips moving and folding over Thranduil’s pairs alternately, sheathing it with his own as he passionately suckled them one after the other.

His heart was beating fast, thumping against his chest and at the feel of Thranduil’s warm palm over it, it started to beat even rapidly as heat and a blend of excitement and delight started to flood it.

Thranduil’s rich forest scent soon infiltrated his nostrils, soothing the excitement he felt only momentarily before the tip of Thranduil’s tongue brushed against his own, making Thorin unable to control a pleasurable shudder.

He brought Thranduil’s face even closer and impatiently slid in his tongue, clashing it against the other’s, caressing the inner walls of his mouth and delving deeper till he could go no further. His hands slid off from Thranduil’s face and onto his back, dragging across the fabric covering the elf’s body to his nape, tangling his fingers into the silken strands.

Thranduil tasted sweet like honey, with passion as thick as milk…Thranduil was like milk and honey, always leaving an aftertaste and making one wish to have more.

After a while, Thorin began pulling away. He released Thranduil and unwillingly dragged his lips apart from the other.

For a moment, both of them only stared at one another—their breaths swelled, lips swollen and a dazed look crossing both of their faces.

With time, Thorin’s heartbeat started slowing down. The heat and the euphoria he felt slowly started receding as his mind began taking note of his surroundings. His face suddenly twisted in confusion and a frown marred his brows as he asked, genuinely perplexed, “What are you doing?”

He did not miss the flicker in Thranduil’s eyes and neither did he miss the elf’s expression faltering with surprise at his question. However, he had to ask. He was done with games and lies. He had to ask.

“What are you doing to me? Are you still putting up an act? Because if you do, then know that you will break me beyond repair.”

Thranduil let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding in. “Do you really need to ask me?” Thranduil said softly. “It’s not an act; didn’t it feel real to you?” Thranduil asked searching Thorin’s dark eyes with his own bright lapis blue ones. “I don’t want to hurt you…I don’t want anyone to hurt you.”

“I felt it was real all those nights ago, but you recanted. I feel truth in you this time but if it is nothing but a mere act, then I would not be able to pick myself up,” Thorin said honestly, a flush creeping on his cheeks as Thranduil’s bright eyes searched his own. Thorin’s heart screamed and shouted that there was nothing hidden beneath them, that what Thranduil said was true. That it was not an act. Not anymore. But he had been given assurances so many times; it was taking him a little time to take in stride the turn of events.

He sighed and waited to see any change of reaction on Thranduil’s behalf. When he noticed how his words brought back the surprised flicker in Thranduil’s gaze followed by a mild expression of disappointment, it was then that Thorin had no doubts left in his mind.

He quickly cupped Thranduil’s cheeks and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips before he spoke in a voice which revealed the strength of his emotions he felt for the elf, “Do you mean it? Would you want to give this a second chance? Even after everything I have done and said, you still want to open your heart to me?”

Thranduil had to think for a moment, he was worried what would become of Thorin if he stayed here in Erebor with him, not to mention what would become of him as well, it was dangerous for them both. However, the hope and love in Thorin’s voice melted him, he believed him. “I’m sorry for what I said, I was trying to push you away…but I want this, I want you.” He said wrapping his arms around Thorin’s neck and burying his face in the long wavy hair, the scent of earth and fire surrounding him. “I…I don’t want to stay confined here alone any longer…please let me stay close to you.” Thranduil said hoping he would be kind enough to room him nearby so that he could at least keep close watch on Thorin, he still wanted to protect him.

Thorin resisted the urge to ask why Thranduil would want to avoid him when all he truly wanted *was* him. However, there would be many moments for him to ponder over it—he decided—but not enough moments such as this to be cherished.

He shoved whatever questions he had at the furthest corner of his mind and let out a tiny smile, his eyes sparkling with joy and gratefulness, which increased all the more as Thranduil embraced him tightly.

“You need only ask,” he replied in a whispered tone, slowly bringing an arm up to caress the small of Thranduil’s back. “I would have you stay with me but I know some of my subjects would need time to get adjusted with the idea of us being together. So for now, I shall have a chamber ready right across mine...if you would agree, that is.”

He leaned his cheek against the other’s head and embraced him back, feeling a certain warmth radiating from his core and spreading throughout his body as relief and happiness washed over him.

Thranduil consented.

However, the moment did not last long. Soon, a nagging feeling crept back in Thorin’s heart as he suddenly registered what Thranduil said just moments before.

He pulled away and looked straight at the other, his eyes searching for something in his face, narrowing when they again landed on the bruise which Thranduil sported.

“You have not told me about your accident,” he stated, trying to keep his voice still when his heart was rampaged by an extremely powerful ominous feeling. “And what was that you said? Who would want to hurt me?” He frowned all the more as he clearly saw Thranduil’s face losing its luster at the mention of the topic. The foreboding feeling he had felt ever since entering the room intensified and all of a sudden Thorin felt helpless and alert from something he couldn’t still define.

Thranduil stood up and moved away from Thorin, why could Thorin not just leave the topic alone. Telling Thorin it was _‘nothing’_ wasn’t going to work, it didn’t work when he was angry with him but now he seemed genuinely concerned so it wasn’t a good enough explanation. “Nothing serious…a small run in with one of your subjects, I couldn’t even tell you who because I don’t know.” Hopefully that answer was good enough. “I’ve been hearing whispers and rumors around the palace that there are concerned about your decision making…concerning me and Mirkwood, I think I’ve caused a rift between you and your council. I don’t want any problems…” Thranduil had rushed through these answers and they were not half as good as they could have been but he needed to act quickly.

Thranduil sat on the bed and looked at Thorin intently, seeing him in a new and welcoming light. “I just want you to be safe, I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you…not now, not because of me.” He said.

Thorin practically grabbed Thranduil by the arm as the fear in his heart spiked with Thranduil’s response.

“He hurt you?” He barked, wide eyed which soon filled with rage at the very thought of someone even daring to lay a finger on the king’s guest. “Why have you not informed me? Who dares to attack one who I have invited in my kingdom?”

He seethed in anger, thoughts of punishing the insolent dwarf running through his mind. However, there was more to it— the king in him rationalized—and he knew for a fact that Thranduil as not so weak to not be able to defend himself properly against a dwarf. But Thranduil was trying hard to avoid the subject. Every time Thorin asked, Thranduil would have this expression upon his face which warned Thorin not to prove the matter any further as darkness shadowed his usual bright features.

And Thorin knew—whatever numbed the Elvin king was something greatly to be feared of.

His eyes widened even further at what Thranduil spoke next. He knew that his decision would displease some. He had seen others’ attitude and strained gazes while he chalked out plans to help Mirkwood but now as the elf spoke and now that he saw that Thranduil had been _attacked,_ Thorin prayed that it would not pave a path for mutiny.

He got up and caressed Thranduil’s cheeks once as the vulnerability and gentleness evaporated from his face, steeling it with wisdom as the king in him again resurfaced.

 “Rest now,” he told Thranduil and began exiting the room. He would have to find a way to make transactions such that the elves did not suffer and the dwarves did not have enough to fuel a dangerous fire.

“You leave me completely alone for days at a time it happened days ago…that’s why it didn’t matter and like I said I didn’t catch their name. I just wish to forget the entire incident.” Thranduil said shaking it off the best he could.

Thranduil felt a gentle hand caress him as he leaned into the touch wishing to absorb all the warmth and gentleness that was being given. He was a little concerned when Thorin left though, he knew that Harrak and Dimo would pay him another visit, even if he was moved it would make no difference, and yet Thranduil still needed a way to protect Thorin but not lie to the other two dwarfs either…hopefully they would listen to him the next time he encountered them.

 

* * *

 

 

 “You must not mean what you say,” spoke one scandalously, quickly lowering his tone, fearful of unwanted ears hearing him. “Mad? Our king? He is reckless but mad?” “How else would you describe his actions?” Countered a very familiar voice as Dimo circled around the handful few. His tone was resolute and intentions poisonous. “Recklessness was agreeing to all of the elf’s entire terms. But to disregard our own people’s starvation just so that he could be in the elf’s good graces? No. That is what I call obsession. That is madness.” “Certainly you must have seen how his eyes darken as each day passes,” Harrak’s voice rasped gruffly, “What he does is for lust and a precarious need to be pampered by the elf. If only you knew what transpired. Gold isn’t the only undoing of the line of Durin.”

At this, the small dark chamber suddenly filled with murmurs, whispering words, rumors, concerns and fears as panic began to shroud the entire room. “Then do you suggest that it is that?” Asked a dwarf, fear evident in his voice. “That our king is succumbing to the Dragon Sickness?” Dimo and Harrak nodded solemnly at which darkness fell on each and every one’s face.

 “And if he is not stopped, he will lead us to ruination. Councilmen, you have seen our king. You know of his erratic behavior which shows no signs of reducing.” “Then what do you propose?” For a while no one spoke. A dreadful silence stretched between all, weighing heavily down upon everyone, making the already tense atmosphere even more humid and uncomfortable.

After what seemed like hours, Harrak finally opened his mouth and as he spoke, his words came out cold and determined, shocking every single occupant of the chamber. “A new regime.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not ours. never was, never will be *sighs* :(
> 
> AN: We're back~~ So this chapter...well...it's dark. That's what I'm gonna say at the moment. It was a risk to go with this arc but we hope you will like it!  
> thanks to everyone for providing us your support.

Fili sat in his private study  going over numerous reports and correspondents, he had been rather busy lately with all the exports heading to Mirkwood although he was pleased that the last of the supplies had been sent so that was another agenda he could stop worrying about. When he first heard of the famine and hardship Mirkwood was going through he thought it best to help them, they were a neighboring people and they were once valued and important trading partners, if they helped get the elf’s economy back on their feet they would be helping themselves in the long run. He had supported the shipment of goods and supplies but he had no supported his uncle keeping the Elven King here in Erebor like some type of pet.

In all honesty he held no ill-will toward Thranduil and he thought the elf King deserved a little more consideration that he was receiving, he knew his uncle well though, and once he set his mind to something he would never give up until he achieved that goal and Fili knew that goal was for the elf to love Thorin…as much as Thorin loved him,

Fili had been spending most of his time as of late with council meetings, his uncle thought it important that he attend every meeting, and that he now handled their supply inventory more and more responsibility was laid upon him and he knew Thorin was grooming him for Kingship, it filled him with pride that his kin thought so highly of him although it was a _lot_ of responsibility he carried it well thus far. He had recently heard things about his uncle that made him defensive on the spot for his King…however he couldn’t help but worry their might be some truth to the accusations, he hoped they were wrong but if they were right what was he to do?

He heard a soft knock on his door, and as it was rather late in the evening he knew exactly who it was. “Come in Kili.” He said not bothering to stand on ceremony or even move from his position at his desk as his brother walked inside although it wasn’t the usual carefree light expression that dawned his brother’s face which made him frown. “Is something wrong? You look a bit tense.” Fili said stopping his work for a moment.

Kili gingerly stepped inside, pushing the door as if it had gained a sudden bout of weight. He inhaled deeply, wondering over how to put his thoughts into words as he slowly dragged his legs forward, approaching his brother.

The closer he got, the more unsettling he felt within him—the feeling racing his heart and stirring up concerns and fears which had been culminated within him over the past few days.

He finally paused at arms’ length apart from his brother and said in a quivering tone before swallowing thickly, “There are words, brother.” He took a moment to calm himself down, licking his chapped lips once. That he was worried and nervous was clearly showing on his face and Kili made no moves to hide it behind a neutral front his uncle often sported. “It is about Uncle. He is not himself. I fear—we fear that it won’t be long before we lose him completely.”

He looked right into the eyes of his brother, his heart skipping a beat as he saw a darkness descending upon Fili’s face the more he spoke about Thorin. Still, he had to. It was for the sake of their own people and kingdom. With one more deep breath he continued, this time his voice was firmer and more certain, “Uncle no longer sees straight. He will feed those elves and would not see if we starve to death or not _just_ for the sake of that one elf. I did not believe this at first but Fili, I saw. I saw how he swoons over him. I saw how desperate he becomes and turns a blind eye when he sees the state of our stock.”

Fili sighed standing up. “I have heard the same things…rumors and talk floating about his foolishness in helping Mirkwood, but I’m not so sure their concerns are as valid as they claim. I personally handle our inventory and I made sure that nothing would be sent that we could not spare. Erebor will survive. Although it’s his other actions that concern me, his infatuation with the Elvin King is not healthy and he can’t simply keep him here forever, it’s the obsession that worries me…obsession in the first sign of the sickness. Others are saying he is succumbing to the curse upon our family, I’m not sure but I am worried.” Fili said.

Kili quickly took a long stride, closing the distance between the two and took Fili by his shoulders. He looked up at the other, afraid and confused, giving in to the vulnerability the whole situation enforced upon him.

“Oh Fili, he will deplete our supplies _because_ of his obsession for the elf! I didn’t believe it. I thought that the rumours were nothing but idle gossips. But now I see it. He was never so reckless,” he paused, licking his lips again as his throat became dry with sheer panic taking hold of him. His eyes widened and danced between Fili’s orbs, quivering with dread and anxiety as he weakly asked, “Is it the dragon sickness? What should we do? They say that Uncle might not continue for much longer.” He paused and this time, it was not for the briefest moment. He took his time and blinked away the fear which was clouding him. His face was slowly setting into a maturity befitting of his age.

He looked back again his eyes were hard and determined, having no traces of his early confusion. When he spoke, his voice bore no traces of weakness; rather what resonated from it was authority, “If Uncle is ill, then a new king is needed.”

He did not miss how Fili’s expression lost its calmness and was sprayed with surprise. It made him all the more determined and he spoke again, “ _You_ are needed.”

The frantic tone Kili’s tone took concerned Fili as he was grabbed by the shoulders and his brother told him plainly that if everything said was true. Then he would be King…it did strike Fili with a fear of the position he never knew he had, while Thorin was still young and not in failing health it wasn’t a possibility that he had ever entertained before…until now, and if everything was true if Thorin had fallen under the Dragon Sickness…it did frighten him somewhat that he was next in line, he wasn’t sure he was ready for this role

“We…we can’t jump to any conclusions Kili; Thorin is still our uncle, our family, and above all our King. We cannot simply focus on the wrongs, we cannot forget everything he had done for us we would not have reclaimed our home had it not been for him.” Fili said. Thorin had done so much for them it wasn’t fair to condemn him for a few mistakes and if he could be placed back on the right path there would be no need for concern. “Maybe we can help him.” Fili suggested.

“I am aware, Fili,” Kili’s voice now rung frustration. “I am aware and grateful to Uncle for everything we have. I know we would not be where we are if it had not been for Uncle.”

His eyes narrowed and a scowl crossed his face, clearly not approving his brother’s dilemma or the implication he was trying to throw. “But do not forget, he is responsible for where we are at this present moment and for our future. And I cannot have the fate of our people in the hands of our king who is starting to lose his way. And I know you can’t either.”

He pursed his lips, trying to contain his annoyance, looking away from his brother’s horrified face.

“I want his best,” he said softly when he was composed enough, “And I know that if he doesn’t step down, he *will* be killed. Think about it. The kingdom is uneasy. If Uncle’s antics continue...” he ended with a shudder, which portrayed how shaken he himself was thinking about the alternate fate Thorin would suffer.

“He is beyond negotiation. You saw how he disregards everyone when someone tries to raise a concern. His attention lies with the elf; his heart lies with the elf. Today it is food. Tomorrow, what else will he willingly hand over to the elf?”

He stepped back and said, his voice grim and face solemn, “You know the right thing to do. You need to act.”

“I can’t simply walk up to him and tell him to step down Kili!” Fili said walking away frustration evident on his face. “I know what my responsibility is and will act, but I am not willing to simply toss our uncle aside as if he’s a criminal…if he’s sick then it’s not his fault and we will help him, I refuse to allow any harm to come to him. Regardless of everything he is still family and we can’t forget that.” Fili said.

“Maybe…let’s wait a few days and truly evaluate him ourselves, I haven’t spent much time with him lately in all honesty, I have to give him the benefit of a doubt…he deserves that from me, from _both_ of us,” Fili said wanting Kili to calm down a little. If Fili was to be King in place of Thorin he would do it right and not start out like a power hungry thief.

“Fair enough,” Kili agreed, turning to make his way towards his own chambers. He still had an inkling that Fili would decide to play the dutiful heir longer than necessary; he still worried that it would worsen Thorin’s condition but Fili was right. They had to see the true extent of their Uncle’s sickness for themselves before they could act.

 

* * *

 

Fili couldn’t sleep well that night. Every time he tried closing his eyes, Kili’s words would ring in his ears, making him wake up and try and reason with himself. Two opposing thoughts waged war in his mind—while on one hand, he thought their concerns to be absurd. Thorin was always hot headed but wise nonetheless. If he acted a certain way, he would do so with good reason and not just on a whim. However, his heart did not fully accept the trail of thought.

He started pacing around in his chambers, sleep long forsaking him as a deep sense of dread and foreboding feeling took hold of him.

Indeed, Thorin was family. However, he had seen how easily the king extended his arm at an elf— _the_ elf who left them to fend for themselves and decide their own fate when the dragon took hold of Erebor. He had seen how Thorin adored the guest who never showed any signs of leaving. He had seen how Thorin disregarded the concerns raised by his councilmen and did not check the supplies sent to Mirkwood.

He stopped in his tracks and frowned.

Then there were those rumours...with the elven king now moving very close to his uncle’s chambers, Fili could never truly write off the whispers which spoke of Thorin’s trysts with the elf. It was clear that the elf was using him; there could not be any way how Thranduil—who had once coldly rejected Thorin after gaining pleasure—would suddenly fall for the dwarf king.

He tried explaining; both him and his brother. But Thorin refused to listen to a single word. If that wasn’t obsession, then what was?

Clenching his fists, Fili stared off at the floor, thoughts running through his mind—one after the other.

No matter how much he told Kili, he too was worried. He worried for his Uncle’s sanity and he worried for the fate of their kingdom.

 _You need to act_ , he could hear Kili’s very words in his head at that moment. It was then that his resolve strengthened. He knew that time was running short. He couldn’t wait any longer.

He _needed_ to talk to the elf.

Without any further hesitation, Fili put on his robe and dashed off towards Thranduil’s chambers. The guards who saw him flying past them did not bother stopping him. Once he reached the certain chamber, his frown increased as he roughly pushed the door open.

Thranduil smiled to himself as he breathed the fresh air around him, even though it was becoming late winter he couldn’t help but to bask in the crisp cool air. Thorin was kind enough to give him a room close by but with very welcoming accommodations, a very spacious balcony and large windows made Thranduil feel less isolated and with being so far from his woodland home he missed the touch of nature and the longing for going outside being satisfied soothed his soul. Thorin had prepared the room very nicely for him, much the same way the other room was but with unrestricted freedom this time…it was almost like a new start for them both. Thranduil’s people’s needs had been met so there was no longer that to disrupt their growing relationship…although there was a new threat but this time it was Thorin who was in danger.

Thranduil was still reeling somewhat from the assault he suffered, he honestly tried not to think about it for the most part, Thorin had been spending more time with him which did not give much of a window for a re-visit from the two dwarfs…and with Thorin so close by Thranduil did feel much safer and he also felt he could help to keep Thorin safe too. He still was unsure of what he could do without saying anything outright, he wasn’t concerned too much for himself or what would happen to him if he said something, he was more worried that if he said anything Thorin would not be exiled but murdered…Thranduil knew he couldn’t live with himself if something like that happened to Thorin and it was his fault.

He pulled his silken night robe tighter around himself and made his way back inside but kept the balcony doors open, the cold wind had little effect on elf’s and he was enjoying the song of stars that drifted through the open doors and for a moment Thranduil forgot all his worries the gentle song soothing his fears.

His thoughts were interrupted by his door being suddenly, almost violently, thrown open. He was so lost in his own reverie he hadn’t even heard footsteps approaching and he scolded himself for being so careless, although his sudden apprehension turned to confusion when he noticed who it was. It was Fili. He was one of Thorin’s nephews and he remembered Harrak and Dimo speaking of making him next in line for the Throne, once they were finished with removing Thorin.

However why was he here now, what could he possibly want with him?

Fili breathed hard, eyes scanning the whole chambers till they pointedly landed upon a slender frame, standing at the junction of his chamber and the balcony. For a moment he simply stood, his breath hitching at his throat and his mind going blank for the briefest of moments.

The elf had been clad in a thin robe which hugged his slender frame graciously. As he stood, the cool moon light fell on him, bordering his silhouette and rendering him an eerie unearthly glow till it gently faded in the shades of his skin.

Fili swallowed, finding his throat grow dry all of a sudden.

No wonder his uncle was so hung over him! Thranduil was truly unlike any creature he had ever seen.

Suddenly, a gasp escaped his mouth as his eyes grew wide with shock. They narrowed immediately after, his mouth twisting into a snarl while the awed feeling which baffled him receded fast with anger taking its place.

It was folly! It was all folly! He understood now why His uncle was obsessed. But he was _not_ his uncle. He would _not_ fall for the elf’s trap.

He stormed his way further in and before Thranduil could have a chance to react, Fili grabbed his arm tightly, dragging Thranduil before he roughly swung the other and threw him onto the floor.

Thranduil’s eyes flickered with rage. His lips were ready with retort but Fili’s reflexes were faster than Thranduil’s tongue. He used his palm to throttle Thranduil’s upper throat and chin and growled, “What game are you playing here? What do you want from us? And how is it that your status as ‘guest’ diminishes day by day? Are you toying with my uncle? Are you using him again like you did for your own needs? There are many who would help you. Why choose Erebor? Because you knew that Uncle could never have the heart of refusing you?”

Thranduil was shocked with the sudden outburst from the young dwarf that didn’t even speak until he had thrown Thranduil to the floor and rendered the elf unable to speak for a few moments from hitting his throat, as if he needed Thranduil to be silent until he said his piece. Thranduil coughed trying to breathe normal through his now bruised larynx, although he starred daggers at Fili.

“Do not touch me again, and do not speak of something you know nothing about.” He growled vehemently, his voice was strained and sounded hoarse but it didn’t stop Thranduil from speaking regardless. “Regardless of what you think you know I have never once touched Thorin inappropriately…I have nothing but respect for him.” Thranduil said trying to sit up but Fili only pushed him down once more, straddling his waist and grabbing his robe pulling Thranduil’s face to his own anger so clear upon his face it angered and confused Thranduil that his dwarf who knew nothing of him was so angry, as if every word Thranduil said only fanned the flame of resentment.

“Oh I know enough!” Fili hissed, shoving Thranduil backwards. As the elf tried to make little movements of rising from the ground, Fili’s anger increased even more and he quickly used his strength to lock Thranduil’s wrists in a vicelike grip using one of his hands while the other grabbed a fistful of the elf’s robe and pulled him up slightly so that he could make the other see how disgusted Fili was with him. “I know how you lured him in and derived pleasure from him and then when he offered you his heart, you threw it away as if it was nothing but a casual encounter.”

He leaned even closer, sneering more and more as Thranduil’s eyes filled with insolence. He could feel Thranduil’s breath hitting his face, he could feel his heart quicken but it was not out of lust—it was anger which ruled him.

“And out of that respect, you toy with his heart and mind yet again, so that you can derive gain?” He released the robe and again cupped Thranduil’s chin, squeezing it tighter and tighter, almost hoping that it would be an outlet for the rage which rummaged his heart. “Is he in love with you still? I see him detoriating before my eyes, you nymph and I won’t have him ruining himself for the likes of you. So tell me—what _do_ you want?”

His hands were trembling, his eyes had a wild glint and the more he saw vehemence in Thranduil’s gaze, the more determined he got to slowly slide his arm down on Thranduil’s throat and throttle him till he died. It was him who brought this upon them. It was him who caused all their suffering.

His hand was releasing Thranduil’s chin, twitching slightly as they hovered close to the others slender neck, fingers slowly curling about it—

“Release him!”

With a sudden jolt, Fili dropped Thranduil on to the floor, whipping his head around in the direction from where came a booming voice.

Thorin Oakenshield. He was standing at the door, glaring at his nephew and seething in rage as he growled, “You will let him go nephew and you _will_ step down.”

Even Thranduil jolted at the sudden voice that seemed to resound through the room, not surprised when Fili instantly put distance between the two of them, he was relived but still somewhat angry for the blatant disregard and accusations. He stood up quickly once Fili let him go as he pulled his robe tighter around himself, not so much because he was modest it was more out of respect for the others in the room.

 _This dwarf hates me_ , Thranduil thought for a moment taking a step back from Fili, it wasn’t simple misunderstanding or general dislike of elf’s either. This dwarf, Fili, truly hated him…with a burning passion he loathed him, thought Thranduil to be nothing but a manipulator of Thorin’s feelings and mind…and Fili’s own respect for Thorin was failing which alarmed Thranduil. Have Harrak and Dimo already begun their plot, have they already planted seeds of doubt in their chosen successor about Thorin? No, this couldn’t happen he wanted to stop everything that was set into motion but the heated argument between Fili and Thorin left no room for Thranduil to intervene…he was even a little afraid to even attempt to stop the two, such was their anger toward one another.

Thorin glared and followed Fili’s every move while his nephew clambered on top of Thranduil and stood up abruptly. It took Fili a little moment to regain his balance but once he did, defiance crossed his face and he glared back at his uncle dejectedly at which, Thorin too narrowed his eyes.

“What were you doing, boy?” He asked in a bone-chilling tone, lessening the distance between both him and the younger dwarf as he sized Fili up. His gaze then slid over to Thranduil who was rubbing his throat and was taking short and quick breaths. For a moment, their eyes met and by the way Thranduil was slightly out of his element, it took Thorin less than a second to guess what could’ve transpired.

A sudden wave of rage welled up within him. He sneered venomously, his heart hammering with a sense of protectiveness he felt for Thranduil and without any word, he grabbed Fili by his collars and spoke in a dangerous tone, “What were you trying to do? How dare you even think of entering this premise?”

Fili held his breath and defiantly held his gaze with the older dwarf.

“How dare I? Uncle, how dare _he_ to overextend his welcome?” He spoke finally at which Thorin’s eyes flashed dangerously.

“That is none of your concern,” he hissed shoving Fili away roughly before he quickly went and took his place between his nephew and his lover. He saw the look of surprise crossing Fili’s face and he did not miss the quick glance his heir threw at his lover. It was then that Thorin’s heart skipped a beat as a sudden thought crossed his mind.

Thranduil never mentioned the name of his attacker. Was it because it was someone who Thorin knew personally?

Jealousy tormented him, and anger filled his mind as the very prospect came to him. Fili and Thranduil...?

He dared not think what would have transpired had he not followed harsh whispers coming from this very chamber and his fear instilled greatly when he saw the door to Thranduil’s room open so precariously, with his nephew practically on top of his lover.

“Get out,” he stated in a low tone which left no room for argument, “Get out before you lose your fingers. You maybe my own blood but do not even think that you shall be spared if you lay your filthy hands on him. Now, _get out_!”

Fili stared in shock, still and silent as his hands clenched into fists started trembling. Thorin could sense the anger coming off from the young dwarf. He could sense darkness emitting from his nephew. But blood or not, Thorin would not tolerate _anyone_ who dared to even look at Thranduil.

Finally, Fili turned and Thorin’s eyes followed him till he was well out of sight.

He breathed out, not realizing he himself was shaking as a gentle hand was placed on his shoulder.

Thranduil’s brow furthered with concern, Thorin stood still as a board and tense like a tautly strung band, as he hesitantly reached out and placed and gentle hand on Thorin’s shoulder surprised when his wrist was instantly seized by Thorin those angry eyes directly focused on him. Thranduil winced in discomfort but didn’t try and pull away instead he allowed Thorin to pull him forward instantly trapped in the strong embrace of the other the sudden mood swing a little confusing.

Thranduil was unsure of what to say to him, but felt he should say something. “Thank you for coming, your nephew doesn’t seem to like me very much…” Trying to lighten the atmosphere a little, especially with the apparent anger coming off Thorin in waves.

As soon as he felt Thranduil’s touch, Thorin’s instinct took over and he reached out and held Thranduil’s wrist, pulling the elf towards him and embracing him as if Thranduil was dear life itself.

He was still breathing hard, his rage refusing to ebb away and at the mention of Fili, his heart was struck with a familiar pang of anger and protectiveness, making him tense even more.

“Has he hurt you?” Thorin asked, keeping his voice low as he tried practicing self restraint. Somehow, the mere thought of Fili near Thranduil was repulsive to him. And after what he had witnessed, he could no longer rule it out as mere paranoia on Thorin’s part. “Was it him who hurt you before? Do not protect him.”

As soon as he felt Thranduil’s touch, Thorin’s instinct took over and he reached out and held Thranduil’s wrist, pulling the elf towards him and embracing him as if Thranduil was dear life itself.

He was still breathing hard, his rage refusing to ebb away and at the mention of Fili, his heart was struck with a familiar pang of anger and protectiveness, making him tense even more.

nightrose0: “Has he hurt you?” Thorin asked, keeping his voice low as he tried practicing self restraint. Somehow, the mere thought of Fili near Thranduil was repulsive to him. And after what he had witnessed, he could no longer rule it out as mere paranoia on Thorin’s part. “Was it him who hurt you before? Do not protect him.”

Thranduil shook his head. “No, this is the first time we have crossed paths since I came here…regardless I have no intention of protecting him or anyone else.” Thranduil said thinking to himself ‘except you’ He said leaning against Thorin. “He came here to talk but I think his anger just got the better of him…you’ve let that happen before too.” Thranduil said regretting his words when a flash of guilt swept across Thorin’s features.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like that…” Thranduil said trying to rectify the mistake in words. “Please don’t be angry with me.” Thranduil said.

Thorin ‘s shoulders relaxed only slightly as he looked up, measuring the truth in Thranduil’s words. He was fully relieved when he found that indeed the Elven king was speaking the truth and was hiding absolutely nothing from Thorin.

Still, he couldn’t shake the foreboding feeling he had even after Thranduil’s reassurances. The scene from moments ago relayed in his head over and over again and no matter how much Thranduil tried and rationalized, Thorin couldn’t truly rule out the hot aching pang he felt in his chest whenever he thought back on Fili holding Thranduil, being so _close_ to Thranduil.

He was startled at what Thranduil spoke next, his eyes mellowing out with guilt and shame as he looked down.

Thranduil was right. Thorin had acted brashly as well...so then who was he to judge his own nephew for his temper?

However, the guilt dissipated soon with his brows knitting into a frown as Fili ‘s face once again came to his mind. His nephew looked wild, obsessed, his face so close to Thranduil’s, his lips just over those of his lover’s—no! Thorin was desperate. He was angry, he was hurt and desperate. But what right did Fili have to act the way he did?

“You know why I acted so in the past,” Thorin finally spoke, pulling Thranduil down gently before claiming his lips. It was more of his own assurance than Thranduil’s and when he received an equally earnest response back from the other, the tension from Thorin’s frame began washing away. “I am ashamed of what I did but you knew how I felt. But my nephew has no cause. Nor should he! You will stay away from him. Lock your doors, keep your distance. I will _not_ have you within his arms’ reach.”

He pressed his lips over Thranduil’s again and said, his eyes softening along with his tone, “I will protect you. I will save your people. You have my word.”

A brief moment of remorse from what he said fell over Thranduil, but when Thorin’s lips met his all worries were gone, Thorin had an amazing ability to make everything seem all right with something as simple as a kiss. He had resisted this sweet affection so much in the past and now it felt as if he couldn’t live without it, although he was still sorting out his feelings he knew he was becoming fonder of Thorin every passing second they were with one another…and he did feel safe.

Thranduil smiled as he pressed his forehead against Thorin’s. “You did save my people…you promised you would give no false hope and you kept that promise, you have more than generous and I am truly grateful for everything you have done.” He gave Thorin a chaste kiss. “If it will assure you I will lock the door to my chamber, you needn’t worry about me seeking him out though…I only wish for your company.” He said softly.

Thorin closed his eyes Thranduil’s words were balm, soothing the burn he felt within himself. His heart started beating once more with a faster pace but this time, it was not out of anxiety. It was out of anticipation and hope that Thranduil provided.

“As do I,” said a rasped voice. He gingerly brought a hand up and placed it lightly on Thranduil’s cheek such that only the tip of his fingers touched the smooth skin. Then as he gained more confidence, he let his whole palm cup the side of Thranduil’s face, caressing it gently till it slod lower and lower, between the junction of his silk robe and skin, then sliding beneath the fabric where Thorin began rubbing the other’s well defined collar bone and shoulders.

His heart skipped once more, a strange mixture of heat and coolness taking over his entire body, making a stinging flush creep onto his cheeks as his hands travelled further down Thranduil’s torso, tugging the robe so that it exposed maximum flesh.

At first Thranduil didn’t mind all the touching and forward gestures and movements, he actually rather enjoyed it even, Thorin’s touch never disturbed or repulsed him something about the way Thorin was with him was soothing, even when he was a little rough and demanding with him Thranduil knew Thorin would never cross the line with him, and that comforted Thranduil immeasurably.

But as Thorin’s touch became bolder and moved lower Thranduil couldn’t help but tense from the action, it wasn’t so much that he didn’t want it, didn’t want Thorin, he couldn’t help but feel unnerved by the attention. He wasn’t ready to fall into bed with him, they had fallen into each other’s arms too soon once already and it nearly ruined them both and Thranduil didn’t want that to happen again…not to mention he wasn’t too eager to be held after he encounter with Harrak and Dimo, even if he wanted too after the damage they caused he wasn’t even sure if he could and he was sure they he wouldn’t be able to enjoy it.

Thranduil shifted away from Thorin as his advances continued and he felt guilty for the look of rejection Thorin wore when he moved away from him. “Sorry…I don’t… don’t want to.” He said turning away from the look, he felt he should have said he didn’t feel like it but the truth was he didn’t want to have sex, he wanted Thorin in everything, but the physical aspect of their relationship needed to grow more before Thranduil would feel comfortable being intimate with him. Also his personal injuries were cause for concern however Thranduil couldn’t tell Thorin about those.

 

Thorin hummed in his deep voice, savouring the rich forest scent which always seemed to radiate from Thranduil as he buried his face in the other’s chest, inhaling deeply while pressing is lips and dragging them over to Thranduil’s collar bone.

His hands ventured even further, desire feeling him when Thranduil leaned towards him willingly, prompting Thorin to take a step further.

He pressed his body against Thranduil completely, sparing no space between them while he enjoyed the heat which was coming off from the other and seeping into his own skin. Suddenly, he frowned when he felt small movements coming from Thranduil. At first, Thorin thought it was the elf king adjusting himself. However, the more his hands roamed over Thranduil’s body, clearer his movements became. It was as if Thranduil was trying to get away from Thorin’s touch.

His frown deepened, a painful jab in his heart being temporarily ignored. Thranduil had expressed his interest in Thorin. There was no way the elf king was still hesitant about them, Thorin told himself though the reality was something else entirely.

Thranduil’s breaths were becoming short and ragged. Every fibre in his body lost slack and the elf suddenly sat in place, rigid and shoulders drawn in an extremely tense manner and as Thorin tried and relaxed the other with soothing caresses, Thranduil’s limbs refused Thorin any room for him to brush his hands around the elf’s waist and back as his whole slender frame became as frigid as a great block of ice.

Thorin’s eyes flew open when Thranduil pulled completely apart.

What was the elf saying? That he did not want this? That he did not want to be touched by Thorin? After all that had transpired between them, the elf still wanted Thorin to keep his distance?

Thorin jerked and broke free, taking his hands off from the other with a violent flinch as if he had touched red hot coal.

Shock and confusion flashed in his wide eyes which stared at Thranduil, silently demanding any explanation that the elf could possibly have.

His own mind started racing—deducing, analyzing every probable cause which would suitably explain Thranduil’s reaction. However, the pain that he felt in his heart was too overwhelming for logic to take a hold of his mind and because of the stabbing pain he felt, Thorin’s entire mask broke.

The bewildered look he had in his face sloped into that of realization and hurt as the reality of dejection dawned upon him.

He swallowed thickly and took a moment for his voice to lose the weak tremble he was sure to hear. When he was composed enough, his vulnerability in his face disappeared. His eyes hardened, setting into a neutral glance. He nodded at Thranduil once and rose from where he was sitting, silently walking away.

His heart told him to stop and wait—to look back at least.

 His heart pleaded. And he ignored.

* * *

 

Kili’s eyes darkened seeing his brother so riled up and restless while paced to and fro in the younger dwarf’s chambers. Fili had burst into his room forgetting whatever courtesy he had for the moment, startling Kili. However, seeing his brother in such a state, Kili forgot his own sleep and listened to the entire account of events between Fili, Thorin and Thranduil.

And the more Fili spoke, the dread in him prodded deeper and deeper till Kili was certain that there was one way out of this whole precariously balanced situation.

“You still need more proof, brother?” He asked, steeling himself as Fili stopped pacing and turned his entire focus on him. “You have seen with your own eyes. He is demented. He is obsessed.”

He slowly began stepping towards the other and with each step he became all the more resolute.

“It is time for Erebor to have a new king.”

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks' to everyone who have been reading and sticking with us through this fiction, we both hope you are enjoying it! Also thanks to everyone who has given us such great comments and encouragement, and to those who have given us Kudos as well. We hope you continue to read and enjoy!

Thranduil sat down heavily in one of the chairs in his room, his interaction with Thorin fluctuated so drastically one moment they were happy together and the next they were angry then to only turn around becoming miserable. Thranduil knew Thorin took his actions earlier as rejection, he didn’t have to say anything he simply left and that was enough to cause a wave of guilt to rush through Thranduil, he should have come up with a better reaction to Thorin’s advances, he had good reason to not allow things to progress further.  
“I’m doing this all to keep you alive.” Thranduil whispered softly to no one. He couldn’t let Thorin find out about his injures, and he would notice more than his face if they went any further and he simply couldn’t allow that, if Thorin knew what was happening exiling him wouldn’t be an option, death would be their only course of action and with his recent encounter with Fili he knew things had already been set in motion.

He heard his door open as he instantly stood expecting Thorin but froze upon realizing it was Harrak and Dimo. He unconsciously took a step back from the two; they certainly were brazen to approach him here and now just meter away from Thorin’s own chamber not to mention they had no reason to be here, he had not said anything to trouble their plans he had promised to not say anything and had stayed true to that.

“We heard you had a little run-in with Prince Fili…is it not enough that you have seduced and brought our King to his ruin that you must now target the Princes as well?” Dimo glared at Thranduil dangerously. “I thought your previous lesson was well taught, I thought you understood your position…nothing you do will get past us.” Dimo said gesturing to himself and Harrak. “And we are less than pleased.”

***

Harrak followed Dimo who stormed down the corridors with brazen steps. Word had reached Dimo’s ears of the Crown Prince changing his decision. It was too abrupt and too unexpected for it to be simply a miracle. No, such an eye opener needed a catalyst. And both the dwarves were well aware whose involvement would push Fili to take such a decision with hardly any coaxing on the advisors’ part. 

On one hand, they were glad that the two princes were joining hands with them. But on the other, they were not sure what seeds Thranduil had planted in their minds. And how soon doubt would take refuge in both Fili and Kili.

If one was too quick to turn, there were ample chances for him to change sides just as abruptly. And that was a huge concern.

They stopped just a few feet before the extremely familiar chamber, their steps faltering when the door opened ajar all so suddenly.

Harrak glanced at Dimo who was absolutely cautious and rigid, plastering himself to the left wall, opposite to the thick wooden door. Harrak too placed himself beside Dimo, keenly looking at the door, wondering who would emerge from the other side.

They held their breaths, a tense silence stretching between them. The door opened even more making Harrak to deepen his frown in thick concentration, hoping they would not be seen. Footsteps soon echoed off the great walls, followed by the closing of the door before there were more steps—heavier and quicker—as they started vanishing towards the other end.

The dwarves quickly took a look at the retreating back of the ‘intruder’ and much to their expectation, they quickly found out who it was that spent company with the wretched elf.  
A sudden spark ignited in Harrak’s eyes. A scowl appeared on Dimo’s face and without any notice they both dashed towards the chambers, flung the door open and when they were met with a very surprised Thranduil, Dimo could no longer hide the animosity he held for the other.

Harrak did not miss how Thranduil instinctively retreated away from the both of them and when those wide sharp blue eyes took them in with no signs of humility, his own instincts took control of his body as he took great strides towards the elf.

“You should’ve learnt your lesson while we gave you a chance,” spat Harrak, hitting Thranduil hard in his torso and kicking him to his ribs when the elf keeled over. Harrak then knelt down and grabbed a fistful of Thranduil’s hair, using it to force Thranduil to look at him as he demanded, “What were you planning to do? Fill the prince’s head with lies? And when it didn’t work, you decided to ruin whatever there is left of the king?”

Thranduil’s wasn’t necessarily surprised when Harrak instantly attacked him, in all honesty he seemed a lot more volatile and quick to anger than Dimo, but one was never quite prepared to be throttled without little or no provocation to the action. He grit his teeth and refused to scream with every kick to his ribs Harrak served him to keep him on the floor. He looked up in time to see Harrak raise his fist and he closed his eyes waiting for the blow but surprisingly Dimo stopped the other.

“Don’t hit him in the face…those few bruises we gave him last time took a long time to heal, we are lucky Thorin didn’t notice them, this elf is smart enough to hide the marks but he can’t conceal his face.” Dimo said receiving a surprised glance from Thranduil which made Dimo scoff.

Thranduil was indeed surprised by Dimo’s words, it wasn’t that he thought them ignorant but he didn’t think them exactly clever, he had even halfway hoped they would be dumb enough to hurt him enough to where Thranduil’s choice to reveal this would be taken away with the obvious bruises…but it seemed they were a little more intelligent than he had originally thought.

“I…I kept my word.” Thranduil said holding his sides as he glanced at the two of them. “Fili came to me, I didn’t say or do anything to him, he’s worried for Thorin and blames me…I promise you he hates me, wants nothing to do with me.” He said keeping his eyes to the floor, he still had a hard time understanding how such treachery could lie in two of Thorin’s councilors…these two knew nothing of loyalty.

“There would be no need to worry had you never come here in the first place!” Dimo yelled although it was more f a hushed whisper. “He should be worried though, you have caused such a rift in out kingdom…If the King refuses to step aside we only have one other option to take in order to preserve out people, but if he is only exiled you would be able to return home, take the mad King with you if that’s what you want.” Dimo said reaching out to touch Thranduil’s face almost like a gentle caress. “But we can’t have you acting out without our consent, nor can we simply allow this defiance to go unpunished.” He warned. “You will learn obedience, or I will have your death alongside our Kings.” He said grabbing Thranduil’s Tunic and pulling him into a crushing almost bruising kiss.

Harrak suddenly came to his senses by Dimo’s words. He glanced at his raised fist once, then back at Thranduil before he lowered his arm with a struggling attempt to calm himself down.

Dimo was right; they could not harm him where it would be too obvious. But the elf had that quality in him which unnerved Harrak to extreme bounds!

His breathing eased gradually and with great effort as his eyes turned cold while he measured Thranduil up. He narrowed his eyes when Thranduil tried to convince them of *Fili’s* hatred towards him and before he could even conjure up a reply, he was swiftly cut off by Dimo’s sharp whisper which had no traces of anything but venom. 

He seethed and riled with disgust when his eyes took hold of Dimo’s fingers touching the elf’s face with such a gentility. The elf tensed, sensing that it was nothing but a conjuring wish at best, his bright blue eyes widening and shining with something very close to fear and apprehension. Harrak distinctively heard a shuddering breath escaping the abomination as Dimo’s thumbs caressed the lower line of the other’s lip, his own jaws clenching at the bitter aftertaste left in his mouth.

That wretched thing was undeserving of anything close to gentility. He had no right to deserve a moment’s bliss when all Thranduil brought upon them was ruin and misery! He had every right to suffer every living moment.

All of a sudden, he heard a hard clashing sound, followed by a moan and a stifled gasp while his eyes were set upon the elf, whose frame was locked by Dimo’s strong hands while he struggled hard, twisting and tossing his head , hoping to free his mouth from Dimo’s.

At that very scene, something stirred deep within Harrak. His chest felt uncomfortable with a stinging fire which was rapidly consuming his heart and mind. Suddenly, his breathing got faster. His fists clenched beside him as his fingers rubbed themselves together, dying to ease the itch he felt desperately in his palms making him want to choke the bastard elf with his bare hands.

His eyes saw red; the more he saw the elf struggling, faster the flames of rage and disgust spread through his entire body, burning his heart, blood and mind as a grave darkness loomed over him.

He then wanted nothing more than to have the elf suffer. He wanted the elf to squirm, his eyes to dull with a mind numbing pain.

And *he* wanted to be the root of all Thranduil’s evils.

“Move aside,” Harrak’s sudden cold voice caught the others’ attention while he looked steely at the elf. Ignoring the dubious look he got from his partner, Harrak kept his eyes locked with the elf and spoke through grit teeth, “Let *me* teach him manners.” 

He then glanced at Dimo and his eyes narrowed with warning as his tone became grim and dangerous, “And you shall *not* stop what he deserves.”  
He watched as a slow smirk formed on Dimo’s lips before he simply nodded and *presented* the elf to him.

Harrak tipped his head to his side once, placing his foot on Thranduil’s chest, applying more pressure on his injured ribs till the elf was on the ground, lunging for breath. He felt sharp eyes on him, following his every move as Harrak straddled the slender body. The elf’s chest was heaving too much from pain that he experienced not too long ago and as Harrak leaned closer, the heaving increased with the franticness of Thranduil’s breath.

Suddenly, he felt a gust of air on his face when Harrak stooped down and crashed his lips over Thranduil’s, biting him with his teeth, dragging them along the elf’s lips, jaws and neck where he paused only to have his teeth sink in to Thranduil’s pulse point, biting it hard till it left a very prominent bruise.

Dimo was only slightly disappointed that Harrak stopped but in all honesty dismissed it and moved aside to allow Harrak to quell any anger he felt, any distress, let all of it fall unto Thranduil and let him endure the wrath. Strangely enough although Thranduil was still resisting and fighting with them it seemed half-hearted as if he was trying to comply with their requested but was unable to stop himself from defying them nonetheless.

Thranduil audibly gasped when Harrak bit into his neck, sucking and increasing the pressure to be sure and leave a mark. He wanted to resist, to scream out, to fight back…but it seemed pointless, it wasn’t as if he could stop them and even if he succeeded what would that gain him? For every time he tried to escape he was only pulled back harder, retaliated in defense he received threefold in attack, the less he resisted the less pain he received, a small blessing in a sea of agony.

Thranduil clenched his teeth hard when he felt the brush of cool air hit his bare skin when Harrak began to pull and rip his clothing away, he was careless and hasty with this action not caring if he destroyed the clothing or not, as long as he gained the access he wanted. Thranduil hated this, not long ago he had denied Thorin and now his legs were being forced open by another, it filled Thranduil with revulsion but not for the two causing this he was appalled with himself…how could ever allow Thorin closer? How could he have allowed himself a kiss without thinking how his own self only shamed Thorin further, he was disgusting and he deserved this…Thorin deserved so much better.

Dimo sat back as watched the scene begin to unfold. Harrak was violent and had a profound disdain for elf’s so it was no wonder how much he wanted to hurt Thranduil, it was probably better that he was there to keep an eye on the two, if Harrak went too far and placed Thranduil into the infirmary I would only cause problems for them both. Although he couldn’t help but smile every time Thranduil winced in discomfort, that pale skin slowly mature in yellow and blue bruising, the smear of blood between his legs staining his thighs cherry…he would allow Harrak the first course but he would allow himself seconds.

Harrak grunted, losing interest in Thranduil’s lips only momentarily only to sink his teeth at the same spot which was now already sore and tender because of his earlier assault. He felt Thranduil’s struggles while the elf tried to set himself free. It was a trial certainly, but not his best. 

The realization fanned even more anger in Harrak as he bit even harder at Thranduil’s pale neck, ravaging the smooth skin till he could taste the familiar coppery tang at the tip of his tongue.

He pulled away forcing Thranduil to face him as he examined the other’s face. Thranduil had his teeth clenched, jaws hard and locked, determined not to let any sign of pain twist his placate mask. 

Harrak scowled, the elf was determined not to allow Harrak the satisfaction of him losing the battle. He wanted to show Harrak how futile his efforts were and by the way he was half-hearted in his struggles, he would have succeeded in making the dwarf believe so.

But then those eyes shifted away from him. Then Harrak saw. 

His scowl grew, increasing the grimness he already had about him.

Thranduil’s face hid his pain but his eyes...his eyes flashed and spilled with agony, the internal struggle evident in them all the while Thranduil tried hard to constrain the hurt he was feeling. 

However, what boiled Harrak’s skin was the fact that even after everything, the abhorrent elf was still not resisting as he should. As if he was taking things for granted—taking Harrak’s actions for granted—and it was something which certainly was what the dwarf did not have in mind. The elf was not meant to take it in stride. He was meant to squirm, to resist, to *suffer*.

His scowl trembled, a sneer now making its way. His face was slowly becoming red. His palm stung, the desire to throttle the slender neck once again spreading its twisted vines in his heart. He started breathing hard, the sound of his heartbeat now pounding against his ears. Sweat started lining his brows as his fingers curled around the elf’s fabric, twitching in anticipation and frustration while Harrak too warred with his internal self. 

He vaguely heard Dimo calling out to him, his entire focus transfixed upon the elf. The thing was hissing in pain, clenching his jaws, biting his lips but *still* he wouldn’t put up a fight. Still, he *indulged* Harrak.

Suddenly, red flashed before his eyes, his fingers tightening around Thranduil’s tunic. With one violent move, Harrak tore off the clothing in a barbaric manner, attacking Thranduil’s pale chest, nipples and the smooth stretch of skin right down to his base with a starving urge.

Still Thranduil didn’t plead. He didn’t fight.

“Too stubborn, aren’t you?” Harrak growled, placing his hands in between Thranduil’s knees, snarling when he felt the elf’s legs going terse and instinctively pressing together. “Too stubborn to make it seem so routine, isn’t it you filth? You fear but do not seem to care what happens to you. You take it all for granted.”

He used his entire strength to pull Thranduil’s legs apart, and after an initial brief struggle when he found Thranduil’s legs to be growing less tense, anger bubbled in his chest at the elf’s insolence as he took a strong hold of the elf’s back, spreading him hard while inserting his length without so much as a warning.

“AAHHHH!” Thranduil couldn’t contain his scream from the initial pain of Harrak penetrating him; his scream though only seemed to excite Harrak as he slammed his body forward at full force almost knocking the wind from Thranduil in the process.

Thranduil’s hands unconsciously were grappling with the floor, pushing against it while trying to find something to clutch but only grasping at air. Thranduil’s back arched uncomfortably, his hands found Harrak’s shoulders as he pushed against them hard but to no avail.

“Scum!” Thranduil yelled as he pressed his hands hard against Harrak’s abdomen which made it harder for the dwarf to pierce him fully.

Dimo sneered at the comment. “Say what you like elf, it won’t stop us.” He said coming a little closer to the two.

Thranduil growled. “I’m not talking about this!” He yelled “I don’t care what you do to me! I don’t care, you are dishonorable filth! You conspire against your King, you despoil another, you think you are untouchable…you will pay for everything!” He screamed.

“Oh yes, scream why don’t you?” Harrak’s voice was guttural and dangerous with an ominous glint in his eyes. He felt Thranduil recoiling beneath him; he felt the elf writhing under him while waves of agony rolled over him, causing the elf to lift himself off the floor, pressing his hands against Harrak’s shoulders and fall back all the while wheezing miserably.

It was a delight—the extent of which he could never fully explain. The anger did not leave him; it did not cease to stir within him but somehow, when the elf cried out, when he acknowledged he was wronged, Harrak couldn’t help but feel a certain amount of mirth which invigorated him.

He thrust more and more, each one more careless than the other, violently rocking Thranduil in process till he felt something trickling down between their legs, filling the room with its sharp scent. 

He exhaled wildly, about to push himself even deeper but before he could go through with it, he felt a pair of hands on his stomach, desperately trying to push him away as the elf finally lost his cool.

Those words singed Harrak’s skin. He wanted the elf to struggle, but he wanted none of the elf’s insolence. Once more rage and fury crashed against him. Once more the hatred grew stronger for those sad bunch of creatures and before he knew it, his hand started stinging with a dull ache as a sharp sound resonated throughout the chambers. 

“Mind your tongue,” the dwarf barked, glaring at the redness on the elf’s cheek. “You ruin us, you starve us to death, you feed us to the dragon and you claim us to be dishonorable?”

Harrak slammed hard inside Thranduil, overpowering the elf’s strength with his own.

“Your kin treat us as slaves, refuse payment, refuse to acknowledge our greatness and yet when the need arises, we are called upon. You call *us* scum?” His hand met Thranduil’s cheek once more. “You filth! We do not initiate relations only during the time of our need! We do not toy with people’s mind for our own sick advantage! We are not the scum, it is YOU!”

He screamed, slapping Thranduil once again at the same side, and again and again and— 

He suddenly whirled around with wild eyes, as his arm stopped mid-air just short of hitting the elf once more, forcefully held by another strong pair.

Dimo had watched with silent delight as Harrak slammed himself inside the writing elf, screaming at him and belittling him all the while, but when Harrak slapped Thranduil across the face it alarmed him somewhat, and had it only been once he would have allowed it to pass by; but he struck Thranduil again and again so he was forced to put a stop to it.  
He grasped Harrak’s wrist powerfully and glared at him angry that after he had told Harrak to not mark the elf’s face he had continuously slapped him. He wasn’t concerned for Thranduil in the least but he knew Harrak’s actions would leave no small mark on Thranduil’s face, he would be lucky if he didn’t have a black eye as a result of the careless action.

“We agreed to not mark his face…” He growled at Harrak as Thranduil slowly brought one hand to his face his breath heavy and choppy. Harrak was so surprised for the moment he had stopped moving. “Enlighten me on how we ensure Thorin doesn’t notice his obsession has a bruised face…” He said for a moment wondering what Harrak was thinking, he was being foolish! He should pay no heed whatsoever to what this elf says, they were just words and nothing more.

He slammed his fist hard into Thranduil’s stomach, forcing him to curl as much as he could as another punch to his ribs sent him reeling into pain, tears welled in his eyes and he couldn’t stop them from falling. Once more he felt the stab of pain from different angles and places as Harrak began to slowly rock his hips once more.

“You see my friend, his body is a canvas…better to paint it with our fists, and I don’t want this to end too quickly, now what should we do about this little mishap?” He said looking back and forth between Harrak and Thranduil.

Harrak stood in utter shock for a moment, letting himself the time to register why Dimo was holding him back and what would happen if Thranduil’s bruises on his face truly got noticed. 

As his senses came about, he jerked his hand away from Dimo’s grasp and rocked Thranduil, till he got tired of the whole encounter and pulled off, carelessly leaving Thranduil in a bloody mess, wheezing in pain. 

“You have your reason to enjoy this, Dimo.” Harrak replied, glaring sharply at the elf curled up on the floor before he turned his attention to the other dwarf, “But I do not act this way out of some fetish I nurse. “ he pointed at the elf, walking over to him and kicking him once at his side. “I want this one to know what misery is. His kin has made us suffer too much. *He* made us suffer too much. He deserved every bit of the pain he receives. As for the mishap,” he paused briefly, contemplating his course of action while dressing himself and sighing in frustration when he realized that indeed there was sound reason behind Dimo’s warning. 

“Listen to me carefully.”

***

Thorin was making his way towards the library. It had been a long night, the earlier events with Thranduil still fresh in his mind, which seemed to wear down the king with enormous bouts of exhaustion.

His mind refused to work; his heart refused to settle and the only thing that would truly calm him down was perhaps a bottle of strong ale and some solitude. He was near the base of a flight of stairs, which led to the royal quarters and despite how much he wished to, he decided to go against his instincts and forsake the thought of visiting Thranduil just once.

He stopped in his steps all of a sudden, listening keenly as he thought he had heard some shuffling sounds coming from the top. He narrowed his eyes and waited, keenly observing the flight of stairs, only to have his eyes widen in utter shock and his feet to be firmly planted on the ground like a stone cold statue.

He saw in horror as from those very stairs, a slender figure came toppling down and without thinking, Thorin practically lunged towards the stairs, climbing rapidly and catching Thranduil before he could hit the bottom.

“What—“ he couldn’t speak. The terror in him was too great, empowered by his bewilderment as he caressed Thranduil’s forehead from where blood trickled down to his cheeks. Desperately, he looked around, screaming at anyone who was there at that moment, begging for help. His frantic search came to an abrupt halt as his eyes landed on another familiar figure and as soon as they did, they narrowed dangerously as Thorin started fuming with nothing but pure rage.

“What is there for you to see?” He growled, “Get lost. Do not linger before my eyes. Get LOST!”

Fili stood in a type of dumbfounded surprise at what he was seeing at the moment. He had been heading for Thorin’s chamber, intending to speak with his uncle maybe even persuade him to let that blasted Elvin King go home, and then he could see if Thorin had indeed lost all points of perspective or if it was just this damn elf’s influence on him that made him behave in such a way. Although he tied to push it aside there was some nagging sense in the back of his mind that told him that told him that Thorin was not succumbing to the sickness and that it was not the curse of Durin…it was love, and that could make anyone behave insane. 

However, that possibility left his mind upon seeing Thorin hovering over the unconscious body of the Elvin King. Fili heard his uncle scream at him to leave, as if he never intended him to witness this atrocity, he could feel his feet start to move away from the scene although his mind was reeling from the sight. He couldn’t phantom his uncle loving someone and then doing that to them! ‘Kili is right, the time to act is now’ Fili thought as he walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Kudos and comments are always very much appreciated!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Unfortunately, we own nothing but our plot. And the OCs of course~ 
> 
> AN: Oukay, ladies and gentlemen, if you have thought the last chapter to be brutal, this will definitely spin your heads...in a less creepy manner! The plot unravels (or thickens), stuffs happen and angst ensues but NOW, with drama!   
> So without further ado, here's chapter 12!

“The damage is grave,” informed the healer, eyeing his patient warily before shifting his gaze upon his king. “His skull is fractured, there has been blood loss and I would not be surprised from what you’ve said that he has suffered a concussion. His ribs are cracked at two places at least and Mahal knows where else he is hurt.”

All along he was describing Thranduil’s injuries, he could clearly see Thorin’s face shrinking like a dried grape, all colours in it fleeting from it, leaving Thorin extremely dull and pale.

“I have not had the chance to examine him fully. However, these are the primary injuries from what I can see.” He paused a little, frowning as though he was considering if there was anything more to be said. He could feel the king’s intent eyes on him, looking at him with full concentration, expecting him to answer anything and everything which was coming to his mind.

However, the healer sighed and spoke, “I have tried my best to patch him up. Now it is upto him to recover. Given his race, I don’t see it to be a much lengthy process.”

His eyes flickered briefly as though he had said more than he should. And before Thorin could have any more enquiries, he quickly left the chambers, leaving the elf and the king all alone.

 

 

* * *

 

Thorin did not know how long he had been standing still even after the healer’s departure It was as if his feet were frozen solid, refusing to move all the while his gaze kept affixed on the frail figure lying on the bed before him.

Thanduil had his eyes closed and his expression bore no traces of peace; only pain. His scalp was bandaged as were his ribs and even though the healer had placed as much cotton as he could spare, blood was still seeping through the covering, crimson and bright against Thranduil’s ghastly pale skin.

A quivering sigh left his mouth and Thorin dropped heavily on a stool beside the bed. He felt a strange pressure on his chest. It was uncomfortable and claustrophobic, contracting is heart from all directions, making it very hard for him to breathe.

His mind kept reeling back to the horrific sight of Thranduil’s limb body falling down the stairs—bloodied and gruesome.

He buried his head between his arms while tears fell freely down his cheeks. Never before had he felt so helpless, so guilty. If he hadn’t left Thranduil, then this atrocity wouldn’t have had transpired. Thranduil would be safe and unharmed.

Thorin stopped all of a sudden, simply staring down at the bed. His sorrow was decreasing and in its place, a wild sense of anger started stirring within his heart.

He was an idiot. He knew that Thranduil had been harmed before. He knew that his people were displeased with the elf. He even _saw_ his own nephew, trying to strangle his love...trying to—

The image of Fili just moments after Thranduil’s accident came rushing to his mind, making his heart stop for a while as a dreadful realization made its way in.

Fili...

He remembered Thranduil unwilling to take the name of his attacker. He remembered the distinct feeling of the elven king trying to protect someone rather than being oblivious to the insolent brat’s identity. And then, that very night in Thranduil’s chamber, he clearly saw Fili hovering over him while Thranduil was in a very uncompromising position...and then it was Fili who was seen after Thranduil fell down the stairs...

Thorin’s thoughts were broken when Thranduil moaned gently and stirred to his side. It was at that moment that the covers o his body shifted, and Thorin now could see a very bright crimson spot on the mattress itself as well as the elf’s back.

It was at that moment that Thorin’s pulse stopped.

“What happened to you?” He rasped in pure horror, unwilling to comprehend the only possible reason which would cause Thranduil such damage.

A cold feeling settled at the core of his heart, numbing all senses as Thorin mentally stringed all the events. The conclusion which he had derived collided against him with a great force leaving him utterly breathless.

Fili. It was Fili. He had harmed Thranduil. And Thorin had given him the chance.

His rage came rushing back, flooding his heart and numbing his sanity. Without a word, Thorin stood up and stormed out.

Fili would have to answer for this. And if he did not, then he would have to pay.

 

* * *

 

 

Fili walked into his brother’s chamber without so much as a knock. “You were right.” He said simply walking up to Kili. “You were right about everything! I didn’t want to believe it, I tried so hard to find something to absolve Thorin, I wouldn’t have been able to do this if I had any doubts about him…but I’m sure now.” Fili said clenching his fists as Kili looked at him a little bewildered.

“I should have listened to you from the beginning, you have never steered me wrong before.” Fili said calming his nerves down a little. “There is another matter of King Thranduil to consider…we cannot leave him to Thorin.” Fili said not willing to call Thorin his uncle ever again, if he could brutalize someone so terribly family to Fili any longer.

Kili was startled when Fili came in unannounced. His brother was frantic and his wild eyes were proof that something terrible had happened.

“What has he done to—“

Before Kili could finis his sentence, his eyes darted over Fili’s shoulder with utter surprise.

Soon after Fili, Thorin too came in forgetting his basic courtesies. He flew in the chamber, disregarded Kili’s presence, headed straight for Fili, grabbed his collar and slammed his hard against a wall.

“You treacherous fiend,” Thorin growled, his face twisting in rage. “How dare you betray me under my own roof?”

Fili was squirming hard under Thorin’s strong grip, almost choking. It was as if Thorin had no idea who he was talking to. He did not seem to care about pointing fingers towards his own blood and that too for a daft elf! There was a madness glinting in his uncle’s eyes and the more moments flew by, more ferocious Thorin became.

Kili could take it no more. He quickly ran towards the other two and tried his best to break Thorin’s grip. However, the king was strong and in his enraged state, he seemed immovable like the very mountain they dwelt in.

“What are you doing? Release him!” Kili screamed, turning red as he tried to pull Thorin apart before he could kill his brother. There was no longer a dwarf whom he called family. Instead, what stood before him was an animal.

Fili was startled when without so much as a glimmer of warning he was slammed hard against the nearby wall by Thorin, the grip around his collar constricting around his throat making him gasp and immediately struggle with the hold. He had never seen Thorin so enraged before, least not when it was directed to him, and for what! He had done nothing but bear witness to an act of violence! His own face became hard and he stared straight back into Thorin’s eyes with equal anger and spite.

He didn’t think before he lifted his arm slamming it against Thorin’s own to break his hold and without a moment more slammed his fist hard against Thorin’s jaw. “You dare accuse me of treachery! I never would do anything to harm our people, least of all my family!” He yelled lunging at Thorin into allowing him to recover before he struck again. “I am ashamed to call you one of my own! You swore the curse of Durin was of no concern, that we would be forever free from the sickness…you _lied_!” He pulled himself away from Thorin from but only because Kili was practically begging him to do so.

“My actions do not reflect my loyalty…you are unfit to rule the mountain, it is my obligation and my right to challenge you to this right!” He growled narrowing his eyes at Thorin dangerously.

“And who bears the sickness, you miserable piece of sod?” Thorin screamed out loud, his face red with anger and breath heaving by Thorin not able to control his anger. “Who is it that stabs his own kin in the back? Who is it that can commit an act so unforgivable even by Mahal?”

His face trembled with fury. Thorin grit his teeth and his jaws clenched and unclenched and it was evident that it took a great effort on Thorin’s behalf not to kill his older nephew.

When Fili declared the challenge so openly, the glint in Thorin’s eyes flared before an eerie composure settled in the dwarf king’s now slightly restrained face. His jaws relaxed only a little but not his grip on Fili’s collar. Kili still could feel the terseness in Thorin’s powerful arms and he could only pray that in a mad fit, his uncle would not suddenly choke his brother to death.

“You think _me_ to be unfit as a ruler now do you, boy?” Thorin’s voice grumbled like a low rumbling thunder which made the beat in Kili’s heart quicken all the more. He helplessly darted his eyes between his brother and the king till Thorin spoke again, “Barely out of your cradle and you suddenly think you can challenge _me_? _”_ His grip on Fili’s collar tightened as Thorin dropped one of his arm. “Well, let us see about that.”

With that, Thorin dragged Fili towards the halls and barked the guards to rouse up the council. His brother staggering behind Thorin, Kili took off behind them. He could not help free his brother. Thorin was very powerful, especially when enraged.

He felt a knife he always carried with himself.

He could not break Fili free but he could stab the mad king if he dared hurt his brother.

Fili glanced behind himself toward Kili; he could clearly see worry and concern in his brother’s features as Thorin was intent on dragging him to chambers. Fili wanted to avoid a public disgrace like this; the council was against Thorin as it was this would not go over well. However Fili knew he had to stand firm in his intent to rule…that challenge had been made and there would be no turning back now, it was too late to take it back his resolve had to be absolute otherwise there would be no point.

He wrenched himself from Thorin’s grasp. “I will not be dragged into council like an infidel! You wish to see? Maybe you cannot be blinded for a few seconds to see that I am not the only one who believes you are acting rashly and adversely!” He walked into the council room which was still empty and awaiting other members. “Yes…you will see.” Fili said harshly.

 

* * *

 

 

Dimo walked in after being summoned and was surprised at the glares and anger that were filling both Thorin and Fili, Kili looked somewhat concerned although closer to his brother’s side.

 _What has happened?_ he wondered briefly, he was hoping that Thranduil’s…mishap would distract the King long enough for Fili to quietly seize the throne without Thorin realizing it until it was too late, but whatever happened between the two it seemed as if quite was not possible.

Harrak walked in a few moments later as well as a few others and Dimo walked over to him quickly. “Did you do this? What has gotten them so agitated?” He asked in a hushed whisper so no other would hear.

Harrak scoffed and shook his head, inquisitively eyeing the king and the princes. He could feel rolls of anger coming off from Thorin; he could see an animalistic nature about Thorin and so could the others.

A smile slowly crept on his face. Without glancing at Dimo, he addressed him, “He is demented. The council sees this. It is for the best.”

 

* * *

 

Thorin’s face distorted with dissipating anger and incoming surprise when Fili yanked free out of his grasp and sharply talked back. To him, it was incomprehensible that his own nephew—one whom he raised and looked after like his own son was now this alien being, this disgusting abomination who instead of being guilty blamed _him_ to be incompetent.

His bewilderment soon faded away as the terrible image of Thranduil tumbling down the stairs came to his mind and once more a snarl formed on his face as he addressed the insolent dwarfling, “Do you have any idea of what you speak? Do you even stop and think about your actions? What is it do you want? You want Thranduil out of here? You want him out of Erebor? Well, he will go nowhere as long as I am here. Do you understand?”

He could see out of the corner of his eyes the councilmen slowly filling the halls, encircling all three of them. He could feel their tense postures and the cautious glances thrown towards them. However, Thorin was not to be cowering away so easily. Fili had crossed his limits. He had harmed a guest _and_ another king in the most gruesome ways imaginable. He had harmed Thorin’s love. It was unforgivable.

“And after witnessing what had been done to him, I hereby banish you. You are no longer my kin. No longer are you the heir to my throne. You will wander. You will starve and when you do, you will remember the day you dared to cross me.”

“I have challenged King Thorin; you cannot banish me to simply avoid that.” He growled right back.

“He is right My King,” One of the council members spoke looking intently at the prince and the King. “True enough if no challenge had been made he would have no choice but to leave the mountain, regardless of rhyme or reason he has this right as prince and it cannot be ignored…this action must be settled before any orders are carried out by you or Fili.” He said looking between the two. Until the matter was determined neither Fili nor Thorin would be King, for now they would both be battling for the right to the throne.

Dimo stepped up for a moment. “This can be resolved amicably of course…” He said placing a hand on Fili’s shoulder. “There is no reason for a family to quarrel no matter the stakes…” He said cautiously taking a step closer to Thorin. “You have given us all cause to worry about you, a few acts of good faith should be enough to set our minds at ease, even Prince Fili despite his challenge is only concerned for you.” Dimo said making sure to chose his words carefully and remind the council of all the wrong Thorin had committed over the last month without actually saying it.

 

Thorin was about to give a sharp reply however, his attention was snapped in the direction of one of his advisors and at what he had to say, the dwarf king felt his jaws hanging ajar as he stared with utter shock.

They were taking the child seriously? They even considered Fili old enough to understand how politics worked? Fili was brash! He was nothing compared to the experienced ones who had claimed Erebor’s throne and yet the council allows such an indulgence?

Another’s voice made Thorin to face him. It was Dimo. He was looking straight at Fili and the way he placed a supporting arm over Fili’s shoulder and the way he looked and addressed the other’s somehow did not settle well with Thorin. His shock was increased manifolds and he seethed in fury when he suddenly caught the blatant implications in Dimo’s voice.

His eyes went over to another dwarf who was standing close to Dimo, glaring at him with an unspent dejection.

“I am not answerable to you,” Thorin growled, “To any of you!”

“But when it concerns the welfare of your people, you most certainly are!” Spoke one sharply, at which Thorin’s eyes grew bigger at the insubordination while murmurs started rustling all about them.

“Yes, we deserve an answer!” Growled another, stepping forward, making Thorin now turn his attention to him.

“We starve because of them!”

“You give away our food!”

“What will happen to us? How will we survive?”

“You will kill us for that elf?”

Thorin soon found himself surrounded by questioning dwarves, defiance in every one of their gazes as their tones became rougher and harsher. His heart started pounding. He felt numb. His mind ceased to work and only one thought came crashing down to him again and again, making him paralyzed with incomprehension of the scope of it all.

The dwarves were growing restless. The murmurs now turning to shouts, soon every one of them started closing in, shouting, brutally asking him for answers, rage evident in their faces.

“The king is mad!”

Suddenly, Thorin’s heart sank.

“Let _him_ be banished. We have our new king. A just king!”

Now he realized the full extent of the horror which was awaiaitng him. Now he knew what the dwarves wanted. Mutiny.

Before he could gain his senses, Thorin found pairs of arms grabbing his own and forcing them behind his back. He looked wide eyed at his nephews, whose faces were firm and cold.

“Take him away. Show him the dungeon,” ordered one and when Thorin found out it was Kili, the one he pampered the most, he felt the whole world crashing on him.

Soon, there was a tug and as the guards carried him away, Thorin let himself be dragged, himself feeling hollow and lifeless, as the reality unravelled before him.

He was once more reduced to rags. He lost everything. The world he took great care in building now burned.

Fili stood tall a straight as he watched to scene unfold before him and before he even realized it Thorin was being discredited and humiliated without even the opportunity to defend himself.

 _This is for the best_ , Fili thought as he allowed his kin to be bound and dragged away before his very eyes, ordered to be placed in the dungeon and more than likely forgotten. Fili refused to look at him. He couldn’t, if he looked into the aghast face of Thorin he knew he would lose his resolve and that would send the council into chaos if he renounced, so he didn’t look at him a waited until his shouts from the hallway had completely disappeared.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo~ So the next installment and man are we notching up the angst dosage here!   
> This will get a little...rough in this chapter. This complies with the warning which has been posted. So if any of you want to skip the...part...please you are welcomed to do so.
> 
> Thanks as always to all who have reviewed/faved/subscribed/kudo'd. You are awesome~

Thranduil’s eyes slowly opened as he looked around himself with bewilderment, he couldn’t remember how he had gotten to where he was now. It was unfamiliar, and smelled of herbs and medicine.

 _Medical hall_? He wondered briefly as he tried to sit up but is body screamed in protest and he thought he would scream from the unwise movement. He brought one had to is head feeling the bandage as he noticed the wraps around his torso among other parts…but he couldn’t remember what had happened, the last thing he recalled was speaking to Thorin.

“Thorin,” he said out loud as he forced himself to sit up only then noticing the other occupant in the room, it was Fili and he tensed immediately at seeing the other. “How did I get here?” He asked although he was hesitant to say anything to the dwarf prince the blank spots in his mind compelled him to ask.

Fili’s cold eyes fell upon the frail creature. It was sad to see him in such a pathetic state when he knew how glamorously the Woodland king would always carry himself. He narrowed his eyes when Thranduil stirred and slowly sat up.

Sad, but disgusting. It was this elf who brought ruination to their uncle. For that, Fili felt no remorse for the pitiful creature.

Thranduil spoke and the first word he took was the name which Erebor now struggled to forget. That _Fili_ struggled to forget.

“How else do you think?” He scowled dangerously, lifting his chin up and looking down at the other. “You were carried.” He replied to the point, avoiding Thorin’s name by all means. Though it was most certainly baffling that Thorin hurt the creature and yet took so much pain to carry him and ensure his healing. Fili just did not understand and he supposed Thranduil didn’t as well.

Even though he hated the sight of the elf, he couldn’t help but feel empathy for him. To be raped by the one who was supposed to care for him. And yet Thranduil takes his name. What way did the elf’s mind work?  

He played with the crown he held in one of his hands and sighed, putting it on his head. He did not miss the elf’s eyes following that little act and neither did he not miss the surprise which splashed on Tharnduil’s face.

To put an end to his queries, Fili replied on his own, “As king, it is my duty to see to the wellbeing of my people. And I think you overextend our welcome. I will speak to the healer. When he deems it fit, you will be discharged. You will return where you came from and you will not set your eyes to _my_ kingdom ever again.”

Thranduil was taken aback for a moment as soon as Fili placed the crown upon his head, a sudden feeling of dread and panic settled I Thranduil’s heart and mind.

 _As King?!_ Thranduil thought his mind spinning with this information, whatever else Fili said was lost upon him.

“Is Thorin well? Or did he serve his purpose to reclaim the mountain that you found no further use for him?!” Thranduil yelled gripping his ribs as pain swept over him. “He has done nothing but love and support you and you have the audacity to do this to him!” He couldn’t help but to be angry it was wrong of them to treat Thorin with such disrespect.

Thranduil looked away from Fili as he thought for a moment at his own words, was he not guilty of the same offense? Thorin had said many times he loved him and each time Thranduil had refused him and rejected him, he offered him little comfort and if Thranduil simply had the bravery he could have warned him of this treachery.

Something in the dwarf prince flared and in a blink of the eye, he swept beside Thranduil and grabbed his chin in a tight lock, forcing Thranduil to face him while spewed words came out of his mouth, “Do _not_ speak to me of audacity, you treacherous whore! Do not expect me to stand by and watch my uncle and king spiral down to his ruination while his entire kingdom suffers! We lost everything! Our honour, our people, our food!”

He released Thranduil with a jerk, grimacing with disgust as the elf held his ribs and tried suppressing the pain which flashed across his face.

“You should be the one to talk about taking opportunity! After all, who knows better than you how to lure one with your songs and body and cast him aside after you have used him up entirely! The only difference between you and _Thorin_ — as you call him now— is that _he_ came o your aid, if only because of his obsession, while _you_ did _not_ when we were out in the open to be scorched by the dragon!”

He couldn’t comprehend what was running in the creature’s mind. Under normal circumstances, one would thank Fili for doing away with his oppressor. Yet, this elf seemed displeased; angry! Was the elf mad or simply daft? He was ravaged by this madman and yet he calls _Fili_ audacious? Or was there something else which Fili seemed to be missing?

“It was love that made me blind to his condition.” Thranduil’s eyes now fell on him. They were wide, panicked, full of worry and latent fear and if Fili was not so repulsed and enraged with the elf, he would probably feel sorry for him. He steeled himself and went on, “And it was love which forced me to accept his decisions without questioning him, ever since you stepped inside these halls!”

Thranduil looked away and Fili’s brows furrowed as he noticed a certain emotion shining in the elf’s eyes. It was more than guilt or sympathy.

Suddenly, his eyes sparkled with an unexpected realization.

It was...love?

Did the elf now _love_ Thorin? The one who raped him so viciously and abused him? The one who threatened to let his people starve if the elf’s body was not compliant?

His disgust increased as well as his grimace. His face twisted as if there was a vile aftertaste in his mouth while he looked Thranduil up and down like the abhorrent being which he was.

 The moment was interrupted by the door opening after a gentle knock, revealing Kili who entered and nodded at his brother in greeting.

Fili greeted back silently as well after which, his brother spoke, “You are needed. The advisors want to discuss the new trade routes.”

Kili’s gaze lingered on Thranduil for a while, utter dejection filling his face before he rolled his eyes and left.

Fili stood for a few moments, before he spoke, his voice cracking at the end as he no longer was able to suppress the sentiment he once felt for his fallen kin.

“Do not ask me of Thorin,” he said quietly, “Our uncle is dead to us and you are to blame.”

He turned his back at the elf and began walking away.

“Our uncle is dead.”

Thranduil felt his heart leap in his throat when Fili said that Thorin was dead, he was frozen for a few moments but a sudden surge of adrenaline and rage filled his entire system and he launched himself at Fili sending them both to the ground. He couldn’t even feel the pain from his wound’s anymore, fear and anger for Thorin’s life outweighing any other emotion or feeling he had left inside.

 _It couldn’t be true, not after everything he had suffered it simply couldn’t be true!_ Thranduil thought desperately as he grabbed Fili’s collar bringing their faces close.

“Tell me Thorin is alive.” He growled close to Fili who seemed a little bit taken aback by the sudden surge of strength from one so injured. “Regardless of what you think of your uncle, he is a decent and honorable man who showed me nothing but kindness, tried his best to protect me which I wouldn’t allow, he depleted your supplies true but it was to save entire race from starvation…would you as an honorable King stand by and watch us all die? Would you not have extended your hand to help us?” Thranduil said desperately searching Fili’s eyes for some type of confirmation that Thorin was still alive.

Fili never in his wildest imaginations expected such a broken and frail figure jolting out of the bed and coming so close to him in a matter of moments. He stared with shock, his mind refusing to work for a while as Thranduil’s face glowed with rage and life.

He quickly shook off his bewilderment and sneered back, “The Thorin we knew is no longer here among us! All that is left is this raving mad dwarf who has been demented by obsession and dragon sickness!”

He suddenly felt a surge of guilt and doubt clouding his heart and mind. Thranduil’s eyes were upon him, searching him, boring through him as if to try and pull back what Thranduil considered sense to Fili.

He quickly looked away and blinked rapidly, frowning with utter confusion at Thranduil’s words.

“Decent?” He repeated, looking back at Thranduil incomprehensively. “How can you say so after—“ He quickly caught himself and shook his head, as if trying to shrug off the thick mist of confusion swirling in his mind.

Was love so blind that a victim was defending the convict?

Fili’s wonder quickly melted into a cold and dark frown as he measured Thranduil, analyzing the elf’s face.

Or was there something more?

“How can you stand by and watch us starve while trying to save your race?” He spat back, his scowl increasing as the disgust returned to him with full force till the very sight of Thranduil was intolerable.

Just then, he came to an understanding and the very dawning of it churned Fili’s heart with such repulsion that he stepped back instantly, as if he would be tainted simply by touching the elf.

Of course there was something else! The elf was not done. He _needed_ Erebor’s help still! Fili mentally rebuked himself for being so oblivious to the wretched being’s intentions even when he was warned again and again!

Thranduil did not care for Thorin! Or even if he did once, he was feigning now. Though Fili did not understand why he would defend Thorin still before the one who deposed him. If it was about the supplies, then Thranduil would try and seduce Fili. Not accuse him.

His heart leapt once more as a thought suddenly flashed in his mind.

Then again, who was to say Thranduil would _not_ try and play games with Fili? Maybe he was playing. Right there at that very moment!

“You filthy creature!” Fili snarled, “This is how you do it! This is how you get others to be manipulated. By putting up fronts as and when required. You are the vilest excuse of a living being I have ever encountered!”

He swiftly turned on his heels, eager to leave the chambers as a foreboding feeling settled deep within him. He did not want to have any more words with the elf. He wanted him gone!

But first, he had to warn the council.

Thranduil wanted to call out to Fili but his body was practically screaming in agony from all the unwanted movement and exertion. He was pleased that Thorin was in fact not dead, but he had not been exiled either…so he was still in the mountain and still in danger if what Fili said was true. He wasn’t so sure Fili had not claimed the throne completely on his own, Harrak and Dimo _wanted_ him to become King so he was sure they had turned to council completely against Thorin which made the way easier for Fili, but to what end?

Thranduil didn’t have the strength to pull himself back onto the bed so he settled for curling up on the floor, he wanted to sob for the terrible turn everything had taken and all the suffering he had caused…but mostly for Thorin and he swore to himself he would make things right again.

 

* * *

 

Dimo was quietly talking to Harrak in the council chambers. “We can’t let that blasted elf leave, he knows far too much if he went home and told King Dain Ironfoot what has happened to his cousin…” Dimo shuddered from the thought of what that king would do to them. “I don’t care if we have to keep him until the end of time locked away in the dungeon with his mad benefactor, we can’t let him leave.” Dimo said sternly.

Harrak listened intently, eyes ahead on the throne, narrowing slowly at the very mention of Dain. Dain’s strength was legendary as also the affection for his cousin. A scowl involuntary made his lips twist even though he knew well enough that Dimo was right.

Still, the very thought of even tolerating the elf under the same roof was enough to make his insides churn.

“We can have him killed,” he said stubbornly, rolling his eyes when he knew that it was not at all feasible to have the wretched elf dead. His scowl increased all the more at Dimo’s counter reply.

Realizing that they had no other option, Harrak rolled his eyes and said, “What do you suggest then? He certainly cannot roam freely where he can rally up a crowd and tattle. And if he is put together with Thorin, well...who knows what they will do in a mad fit?”

Just then, the entire council fell silent and among thousands of murmured greetings, Harrak glanced up at their new king who entered in a brazen manner and somehow managing to greet out of courtesy, made his way towards both Dimo and himself.

“The elf wants to have the continuance of the ration supply,” Fili said abruptly. It took Harrak all his might not to roll his eyes at the dwarfling who not only lacked tact but also a complete training of a ruler.

“We simply cannot have that!” Fili went on with as much authority as his young self could muster.  “As it is, our supplies already run low. We must send him back before he causes any more damage.”

Harrak’s eyes glinted for the briefest of moments at Fili’s proposal. It was what he wanted as well, however, if Thranduil was sent back to Mirkwood, then he would tell everyone what had transpired in Erebor and the dwarves would not only incur the wrath of the Woodland Realm but possibly all the other elves as well!

Before Fili had made his mind, he quickly jumped in, “Your Highness, with all due respect, if he is sent back, Thorin’s deeds would surely come to light. Do you truly believe that the elves would spare Erebor? Already they seethe at Thorin’s treaty. This would just inflame them!”

Fili’s eyes narrowed and he stood quiet, realizing the possibility of Harrak’s words coming true. That he was still not ready to be a ruler was evident when he shifted his gaze to Dimo and asked, “Then what should be done? I cannot have him near my sight or stature!”

“Of course not great King,” Dimo said approaching him. “The elf has taken much from us without any type of payment in return, he should pay in service make him one of the servants it will keep him out of sight and mind, the room he resides in is not befitting one of his station any longer. Move him to the servant quarters. After all Mirkwood does not expect him back anytime soon and as for the rations, we have given enough for them to survive. No more aid will be transported as for the good of our own people.” Dimo said.

“While I understand your animosity toward him for all the trouble he has caused he might have yet to outlive his usefulness, and until we establish you in a more stable Kingship he should be kept here as a security, we need nothing more to justify our actions but the need of self preservation.” Dimo said seeing the young King slowly nod his head in agreement making Dimo relax a little.

All the while Dimo had spoke, Fili couldn’t help but see nothing but logic in those words. The councillor was aged and seasoned. He had handled so many situations with great tact and had been in service for so many years.

He nodded slowly. The advisor was right. Thranduil had enough service from Erebor. Now it was his turn to pay back in servitude.

His glance darted to Harrak who had his eyes fixed upon him, expecting a decision. He too seemed like in agreement with Dimo and nodded at its justness.

“Fair enough,” said Fili, catching the relieved looks from both of his advisors. “Strip him off his luxury. He thought he could sell his body to my uncle and wrap him about his filthy fingers. Let him see what we had to endure.”

As soon as the council room cleared out both Dimo and Harrak were making their way to the medical ward. He leaned closer to Harrak.

 “Strip him we shall,” he said softly making the other smile.

 

* * *

 

 

Although still in quite a bit of discomfort Thranduil forced himself to make his way to the dungeon, it wasn’t exactly easy but he made sure he wasn’t seen and others that seemed to notice him basically ignored him so it worked out for the best. There were guards pacing the dungeon making their rounds but it left a very large window in-between so as soon as they were out of range he crept toward the barred door.

“Thorin…” Thranduil said softly so not to alarm or alert anyone.

The cell was dark, damp and cold—fit for none to live, not even in the mot indecent of ways. Thorin had been sitting at the darkest corner, his back against the stone wall while he stared at the ceiling aimlessly.

They hadn’t chained him which in and of itself was a luxury and they had allowed him freedom to move about the tiny space.

 _Generous of them_ , Thorin thought as a bitter smile crawled on his lips before fading away into a grimace.

His mind reeled back to the events of the day—Thranduil sitting alone and cold by the fire and Thranduil wanting his companyto Fili towering over his love who had been in an uncompromising state. However, when more brutal images flashed in his mind, Thorin felt a sharp sting in his chest which twisted and turned and agonized him each time he thought about it.

He still could see before his eyes the horrified scene of Thranduil’s limp body tumbling down the stairs, his head bloodied, his face etched with pain. Here was so much blood—so much blood everywhere—that even by touching the poor elf, Thorin had large amounts of it smeared on his hands and clothes. He hadn’t remembered screaming but what he did remember was going frigid and blank, unable to think of anything other than to kill the one who had dared to touch his love.

That one had sadly been his own nephew.

The hurt stung all the more as Thorin vividly remembered the bloodied mattress where Thranduil had laid.

Fili had raped him...Fili raped Thranduil and left him to die. Was Thranduil hated so much?

A sharp sob made its way out of his throat as Thorin tried to suppress it by inhaling deeply.

He truly could not blame Fili, could he? Once there had been a time when he too wanted Thranduil to suffer; to feel the pain he felt during those rough years of exile. He even threatened to violate Thrandui had he not complied...

Thorin grit his teeth and stared at his palms, his eyes narrowing as he tracked back to the days where he used those same hands to restrain Thranduil, force him, touch and provoke him! Soon, his lips twisted as his eyes now reflected sorrow instead of self-loathe.

His hands began shaking, tears welled up in his eyes and the discomfort in his chest grew so much that Thorin found harder to breathe.

How did it come to be? He loved the elf; he loved his nephews. What had he done to make everyone turn him down so coldly?

His eyes widened as he thought he had heard sounds of footsteps descending down the stairs. However, is alertness faded away replacing it with apathy. It would be the guards. They would taunt him and Thorin had grew so tired of being dubbed insane.

However, these footsteps were so light and delicate, unfitting for a dwarf. His surprise increased all the more when a very familiar voice entered his ears.

Scrambling up to his feet, Thorin quickly staggered his way and crashed against the bars, his eyes still not taking enough of the sight before him.

His surprise melted into happiness then back at bewilderment before a broken smile crossed his face.

 

* * *

 

“You get inside,” said Harrak with a meaningful look at his partner, “I shall join you shortly. We do not want unwanted company.”

Dimo nodded and entered the chamber.

However, a moment later he rushed out with such a desperation about him which alarmed Harrak greatly. He made a gesture with his head at the other, asking him silently what had occurred for Dimo to lose his usual composure.

Dimo took a pause to gain his breath back. After that, he replied in a tone which quivered with anxiety, “He’s gone.”

Harrak’s heart sunk.

Gone? The wretched elf was gone?

“How can he be gone when he couldn’t even walk straight not two days ago?” His voice was as hysterical as Dimo’s demeanour. “And go where? Where would he go?” He asked the other who seemed extremely frazzled at the moment.

 It was unfathomable for Thranduil to disappear so quietly especially after what had been done to him. It was impossible. Then how could he?

“Come,” Harrak turned to his heels immediately. Thranduil _had_ to be found.

* * *

 

 

“You are alive,” he whispered, reaching out to gingerly touch Thranduil’s face with the tip of his fingers. “I was so worried. Thank Mahal you are alive!”

The relief was short lived before worry burdened Thorin. He examined the other keenly with frantic eyes before he brought them up at the other’s blue orbs and asked, “They have not harmed you, have they?”

Thranduil couldn’t help give the dwarf a small smile when he seemed so elated and eager to see him. He hated seeing Thorin in such a pitiable state but he couldn’t let it show upon his face, he knew well enough that the last thing Thorin wanted was pity. Right now Thorin needed to be strong so Thranduil would save these emotions for a later time.

Thranduil reached through the bars to gently touch Thorin’s face, placing his other hand over the one gripping the iron bars so tightly. He was still so warm, Thranduil wished he could embrace that warmth, he wanted Thorin to hold him once more and sooth him, as he always had a somewhat calming effect on Thranduil…once things between them began to grow Thranduil had become very attached to the way Thorin made him feel, although at the moment he couldn’t help but feel a surge of guilt.

“I’m so sorry…I should have never come to you for help. If I had just left you alone, none of this would have happened.” Thranduil said hanging his head. “I promise, I will do everything in my power to set things right once again, I won’t bother you again after I swear.” He said.

Thorin scoffed and used both of his hands to grab hold of Thranduil’s clothes and pull the elf as close as he could before pressing a quick chaste kiss on his lips.

How he wished the bars to be absent at that moment! How he wished to fully relish the feeling of holding Thranduil in his arms after so many days of solitude.

He broke free and smiled, caressing Thranduil’s cheek and tucking away a stray piece of hair behind his delicate ears. Thranduil had yet again averted his question but even if he had noticed, he didn’t really register it.

“Don’t be foolish,” he admonished lightly, “If you had left me alone, I’d be lost and truly be demented as they claim me to be.”

Guilt washed over Thorin as Thranduil seemed to take the entire blame upon himself. He quickly lifted the other’s chin up and kissed him again.

“You stupid fool, you were never a bother, do you realize that?” He almost cried out, his voice chocking for the emotions welling up within him. “If it is anyone, it should be me to truly apologize to you! If I hadn’t been so blinded with anger, you would never be in this position in the first place!“

He sighed and grabbed hold of the bar using one hand, atop Thranduil’s own hand while the other tangled in the other’s long tresses.

“Run,” he advised, “Run. My nephew hates you. They all do. But Fili...if he can be so bold to depose me, and if he has...harmed you before, he will do so again. Run, please!”

Thranduil nearly sighed into the sweet kisses Thorin bestowed upon him, he hated that they only lasted a brief moment, he wanted to pull Thorin’s mouth to his and indulge his desire, but there were more pressing matters. Thranduil frowned a little when Thorin mentioned Fili.

“Your nephew didn’t hurt me Thorin, we had a disagreement in my room but I would hardly say he hurt me…” Thranduil said seeing confusion sweep Thorin’s features. “Is that what you have been thinking? Thorin you nephew doesn’t like me of that I’m positive, but he never touched me or attacked me.”

Thorin’s perception lost its certainty when Thranduil mentioned otherwise. He frowned in dismay and in a perplexed manner looked up at the elf. Before he could even answer, Thranduil replied in an attempt to clear away his doubts. However, all Thranduil managed to do was increase them all the more.

“If not Fili,” Thorin pondered aloud, horrified that the rapist was still out there among his people. “Then—“

“He’s down there!”

He was roughly interrupted by a voice he had come to know so well. Before Thorin could even think of acting, he saw with utter dread, a strong arm clenching Thranduil’s locks and throwing him down the floor before Harrak whispered venomously to Thranduil, “Foolish move, elf!” He quickly locked Thranduil’s cheeks in a vice like grip, forcefully making him pout. He threw a fleeting glance at Thorin before turning his attention on the one underneath him. “I told you to tread lightly. Now you grow courage and dare to risk this demented dwarf’s life?”

“You release him!” Thorin growled, clenching the bars with all his might, kicking it hard once before trying to force them to bend. His fear increased and it was then that he realized where Thranduil had received his injuries. And once he did, he could no longer maintain his composure as rage boiled within him once more.

“You hear me? Do not lay a hand on him!”

Dimo walked up to the bars calmly, he knew for a fact Thorin could not break out so he felt relatively safe. “What do you plan to do? The raving of a mad king in his cell holds very little weight, and most don’t really care what happens to this elf you are so fond of.” He looked at Thranduil who was fighting with the hold Harrak had on him but he winced in discomfort from his own struggles. “Looks like he’s not completely healed yet…might be able to enjoy ourselves a little more this time.” Dimo said smiling cruelly at Thorin. “Would you like to watch King of madness?” He said walking over to Thranduil.

Thranduil struggled with the hold Harrak had on him but it already felt like fire, his ribs burned in pain and his head throbbed like a drum, he wasn’t completely healed yet and he didn’t wish to endure yet another torturous round with these two. Honestly he didn’t care too much for himself at the moment. His main focus during these encounters were to always keep Thorin safe…but if Thorin was to witness his debauchery, his forced shame he wasn’t so sure he could bear it!

He clenched his teeth but swallowed his pride. “Please…” He began wanting to beg them not to do this to him here, anywhere but here…not where Thorin would see.

“How adorable…he seems shy all of the sudden, not too long ago we had you riding the both of us at the same time, soon spilling your own seed afterward.” He leaned closer to Thranduil. “Do you want more of that time?” He said loving the grimace that crossed Thranduil’s face as his struggles renewed.

“This madness you speak of is your own story!” Thorin screamed at Dimo but when Dimo’s gaze shifted towards Thranduil, Thorin swept his own gaze at the elf as well, only to still in horror as he saw Harrack  smirking darkly back at Dimo.

His heart leapt in his throat and his entire face ashened at what Dimo spoke next. It wasn’t much in words which caused the grey of fear instil in him. It was the implication of what they could do to Thranduil.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he rasped, his voice refusing to rise beyond the terrified whisper. Dimo smirked back at him in response, taunting him and daring Thorin to stop them if he could.

Then the dwarf in front nodded at the one at the back before Harrack focused his entire attention upon the elf beneath him. Just as he did, Thorin saw how Thranduil stilled for the briefest of moments when his eyes grew wide with unspeakable fear.

 

“Your pretty little elf knows too much, Mountain King.” Harrak said, his voice harsh and lustful as he looked upon the loathsome creature beneath him. “He knows his bounds and yet he crosses them.” The tone slowly became graver and darker as a strange heat bubbled within him, coursing through his veins, consuming his heart.

He hated the creature, he despised its very guts and now that he had a chance, now that he was _given_ a chance, he felt a wild driving desire of just finishing the elf with his bare hands till it was the only thing that he could hear in his mind like an excited chant.

Suddenly, a bang was heard making Harrak to look up from the elf and at his friend. Dimo was slammed hard against the bar by Thorin’s powerful arm. The sudden impact dazed Dimo but before Thorin could pull yet another of his tricks, the dwarf swiftly gained his senses and took steps back so that it was now hard for Thorin to reach him.

Blood raced to Harrak’s mind. In a split of the moment, he let out a guttural growl and banged Thranduil’s head against the cold stone floor, before tearing his clothing with the ferocity of a wild animal.

Thorin seemed to have realized what he had done wrong for soon after, he started banging the bars, screaming frantically out at them, warning them helplessly not to lay a finger on Thranduil.

But those were what they were: helpless warnings. Nothing more.

Thranduil grappled with Harrak’s hands, pushing them away from him lashing out, while trying to stop this entire situation from progressing. It was terrible enough without having someone know, things would have been all right if Thorin had never known, making him witness only made it all the more unbearable. Thranduil didn’t have the strength to fight them off completely, he was still weak and injured…this was not going to end well and Thranduil knew that however it seemed to be more painful than it was before.

Both Harrak and Thranduil stopped when a resounding _bang_ was heard as they stared in shock that Thorin actually managed to grab hold of Dimo although the dwarf was quick and quickly took steps away before more damage could take place. Before Thranduil could generate a response his head was slammed hard against the stone concrete floor, he hadn’t expected it so it stunned him for a few moments, the cold damp air of the dungeon tingling his exposed skin bringing him back to reality.

Thranduil knew Thorin’s heart was in the right place but with every scream and action he took it seemed to only infuriate the two more; his little attack against Dimo while valiant had a devastating effect on Thranduil. His arms twisted and pulled together by Dimo while Harrak carelessly tore at the rest of his clothing, he stole a momentary glance at Thorin but regretted it when he saw the look in the other’s eyes.

 

Without giving him any consideration, Harrak lifted Thranduil’s legs at the juncture of his knees, struggling greatly as Thranduil flailed and thrashed wildly. The action only seemed to enrage Harrak and he responded by landing a sound fist on Thranduil’s torso, then using the same hand to force the elf down as the punch made him writhe.

“You demented dwarf,” Dimo spat, sneering dangerously at Thorin. “It is a wonder how you managed to gain the throne with such _wonderful_ display of tact.”

He took each step towards the back while he spoke, hating Thorin all the more as his each and every movement was followed by the fallen king.

“You will pay,” Thorin warned, uselessly trying to bend the bars to his cell. He was angry but more so, Dimo could sense fear in the dwarf. Not a glimmer of fear but torrents of it and the more he approached towards Thranduil, more frenzied Thorin’s attempts at escaping became.

Dimo stopped with a startle when his feet hit something. He turned and found that it was nothing but the elf’s flailing arm which hit his heels.

His face lost all its despise, schooling into a feigned sense of calm as he took the creature in. The corners of his lips curled slightly and he slowly lowered his breeches just enough which would serve his purpose before he turned to face Thorin.

“No, no you despicable fiend!” Thorin cried out, trying to shake the bars hard and force them to bend when no impact was made on them. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t comprehend what was happening and what would happen should it go on any further.

“You punish me, do not involve him! He has not caused any harm to you! It was me!” He shouted with utter desperation but his cried went unheard.

He caught a brief glance at Thranduil whose eyes locked momentarily with his and it was at that moment that Thorin‘s knees gave up, making the dwarf crumple on to the floor. His heart wrenched with guilt and shame. How could he have been so brash? Why had he not realized that his simple foolish act would have Thranduil pay for him?

The sky fell on him when Dimo faced him.

“No Mountain king.” There was a glint in Dimo’s eyes—one fading into darkness which grew all the more while he addressed the other, “It is you who shall pay.”

Then he turned and straddled Thranduil’s upper body. His cruel hand wrapped around the elf’s slender neck, pressing it till it was inevitable for Thranduil to open his mouth and gasp in some air. It was then that Dimo took the opportunity of shoving his member in the elf’s throat. He felt Thranduil’s wild breath out of sheer anxiety and lack of preparation. He felt the elf wildly shaking his head and moaning hard when Dimo pushed himself deeper. However, with Harrak capturing his legs, Thranduil had very little room to wiggle his way out.

Thranduil gagged around the member in his mouth as it hit the back of his throat, his hands being momentarily free as he pushed against Dimo’s thighs in an attempt to push him away. Dimo wasn’t at all discouraged or fazed by the weak attempts as he pushed deeper effectively cutting off Thranduil’s ability to breathe which sent Thranduil into panic. Dimo relished in the desperate looks given to him by both Thorin and Thranduil as he would hold himself still until pulling away only enough so Thranduil could breath but he wouldn’t allow it to last very long before he would start it all over again. Keeping Thranduil aware and conscious were unbridled pleasures which Dimo refused to deny himself of.

Dimo squeezed Thranduil’s jaw hard which forced him to keep him mouth open and made it almost impossible for him to bite.

Thranduil was far too distracted by Dimo to register much else, so when Harrak decided to take his pound of flesh Thranduil couldn’t help but scream around the length in his mouth as his resistance became more violent. He clawed at Dimo’s thighs wanting to bite down but Dimo was holding his jaw open firmly, he kicked his legs trying to keep Harrak from pressing himself deeper. He couldn’t abide this! His body screamed in protest at mere movements from past injures, and Dimo and Harrak seemed insistent on creating more painful new ones. His vision kept fading in and out of darkness as his body seemed to go numb from time to time; it was as if his body and mind were combating on what to do, to stay conscious and fight or to faint and be released. Thranduil wanted the latter but he also didn’t want to simply give up and let this be done.

Thorin was watching…

“Stop, you want my throne? You can have it. Just release him!” Thorin could take no more of such atrocity. Those monsters were relentless and ate Thranduil’s fear and shame just so he could be punished. This was atrocious and Thorin could have no more of it.

He closed his eyes and turned his face to the side. It took every ounce of his will not to look with each grunt, heaving breath and sounds of struggle that emerged out of the ghastly scene unfolding before him.

“No don’t look away,” he grit his teeth at Dimo’s voice. The very tone of the scum was daunting while he prodded Thorin. “You avert your eyes and I swear the elf will be worse than when you found him!”

Thorin’s eyes flew open at the declaration.

How did they know? They were not even at the scene when Thranduil was found. It was Fili. Only Fili was present! Wasn’t he?

His heart suddenly was gripped with a cold and cruel dread as truth slowly bore its way into his mind. And the more Thorin realized, faster his breath left his entire lungs.

In a sudden fit of rage, he got up to his feet and let out a vicious scream, grabbing the bars and trying to spit them open with his brute strength. His biceps flexed, veins starting to show with his face quivering and reddening under extreme pressure.

His entire body started trembling with anger and humiliation.

“YOU MONSTERS! YOU DID THIS!”

It was these two all along! How could he have been such a fool? He failed to see what was happening before his eyes! The advisors were clearly displeased with him and it would make sense for them to strike quietly when Thorin would hear none of what they would have to say.

His eyes started stinging. His heart pounded against his chest and his mind spun with such overwhelming reality crashing into him.

He had accused his nephew of rape...he had accused his own kin!

What had he done?

“No, you did this! You brought this upon yourselves!” Harrak’s voice boomed throughout the dungeon. “YOU. Your pride. Your _foolishness._ Your LUST! You were told that these creatures were never to be trusted. You saw for yourself. Yet you couldn’t stay away now, could you? You had to have this pitiful thing regardless of your own subjects’ well being!”

He roughly spread one of Thranduil’s legs, holding down the other with his own weight.

“This thing should’ve been dead. You are responsible for whatever now happens to him!”

With that, Harrak inserted one of his fingers into Thranduil. He felt the pain rippling throughout the elf’s body as he writhed and tried coping with the enormous torture which was being done to his still raw entrance. The struggles renewed something in Harrak.

The chants in his mind grew impatient and louder. His heart beat wildly, pumping the desire and pleasure of finally having the elf beneath him throughout his whole body, lighting up a fire which spread through him, scorching him with an irresistible sense of subduing the creature.

He inserted another finger and another one with no gap in time. He wouldn’t allow Thranduil to get used to the pain.

Soon, he felt something warm trickled down between his fingers and into his palm. At that, the desire burned even brightly in Harrak. The flame in his heart was now consuming his very existence. The chants were now frenzied demands to take the elf; to ruin him; to destroy him.

And then _kill_ him.                           

 

“You don’t understand much do you?” Dimo said ignoring Thranduil’s completely as he fought to gain his release with him. “It was never about us taking your throne, I have no urge within me to become King, only to protect our people.” Dimo took Thranduil’s head in his hands, grabbing fistfuls of his hair as he began to brutally thrust his hips forward practically slamming Thranduil’s head against the stone floor each time. “Had you never brought this whore to our land none of this would have transpired!” With another hard thrust he emptied himself inside Thranduil’s mouth and pulled away.

Thranduil coughed violently and retched at the foul taste left in his mouth from Dimo, he could still feel Harrak tormenting him but something inside Thranduil just seemed to snap and his body refused to resist the violent intrusion as he went completely limp in the dwarf’s arms. He had the will left within him but all his strength had been spent, it took everything he had left within him to simply stay conscious.

“Your dear nephew took to his new role quite well, and unlike you he listens to the council, he was set on sending this retched elf back home…but we couldn’t allow that, making him a servant to pay off his debt was much more appealing anyway.” He looked between Thorin and Thranduil. “I can understand why you’re so smitten with him…let me know how much we can do to break you of this infatuation, if we completely despoil him will it make you turn away?” He said a cruel smile crossing his features.

Dimo grabbed Thranduil’s chin and turned his face to Thorin. It forced tears to breach Thranduil’s eyes as he looked into Thorin’s, sorrow and anger so evident within them it was painful to look…although it seemed to turn Thranduil slightly at the helplessness he saw reflected in those eyes, that look was more unbecoming that Thranduil could allow.

Thranduil growled slightly. “Do not pity me Oakensheild.” He grit out through everything he was feeling at the moment. “I need it not!” Thranduil never needed pity least of all Thorin’s. “Your energies are best spent elsewhere…least upon me.” He breathed out trying to tell Thorin to stay strong, regardless of what these two did, what they were doing, do not let them instill weakness within you, do not let them win.

Thranduil’s back arched, a scream being lost in his throat when Harrak entered him with nary a warning. It felt like hot iron being poured inside him, and he couldn’t stop it, Harrak’s nails digging deeply into his hips and Dimo’s hand encircling his throat to shut him up. He couldn’t help but look at Thorin pleading with him silently to stay strong for Thranduil no longer had that ability.

“Have you not done enough?” Thorin was on the verge of breaking down. “YOUR FIGHT IS WITH ME. You fight _me_. Why do you torment him?”

His heart stopped at the clear provocation that Dimo threw at him.

“I matters not,” he rasped, shaking his head while he refused to grapple the clear threat which the dwarves were sure o execute. He couldn’t breathe; his heart that was pounding before was now rattling his chest so much that it hurt. “I am nowhere near his reach; neither he is of mine. This is not necessary. Don’t do this.”

“Why?” It was Harrak’s turn to taunt. He pulled out his fingers and mercilessly thrust his member into the elf. Thranduil screamed out. The sheer brutality was enough to make Thorin’s skin crawl with disgust and tear his eyes away from that which was transpiring before him.

No more. He could take no more.

“I thought you wanted this. Did you not?” At that, Thorin’s head snapped back at the other. Harrak was now thrusting deeper and deeper into Thranuil, his breaths becoming heavier, faster and wilder as he pulled and pushed himself, practically boring into Thranduil. It was as if he was determined to finish the elf off with his sheer force. It was as if he was draining his entire rage into Thranduil and one could only bear so much of torture!

“Did you not once wish for this very elf to be under you, subdued and helpless—bending to your wish and whims? What makes you so different?”

Thorin’s heart felt like being stabbed by the hot blade of those words, twisting and tearing it with the viciousness of the truth which Thorin knew he could not deny.

It was true. He did once Thranduil in the same was as he was now—spread before him—under him—helpless and subdued. Shame filled him. His eyes burnt. Sorrow thickened in his chest and for once, he truly could not help but ask himself the same question which was asked to him.

What _had_ made him so different? Nothing.

“Forgive me,” he whispered, his disgrace-heavy lids not daring to meet Thranduil’s eyes. “Forgive me.”

He was numb and trapped and when Thranduil’s strong words entered his ears, whatever resolution he had broke completely.

Never before had he felt so futile; he thought he was vulnerable before during his days of hardship. He was proven wrong at that very moment when he caught hold of Thranduil’s gaze.

He heard Harrak finishing in his act and pulling away, followed by a wheeze escaping from Thranduil himself. Dimo released as well and by the sound of ruffling of fabrics, both were trying to be presentable before they left.

When Thorin finally had the courage to look, Thranduil was seen lying in a bloody mess, hurt and limp and looking blankly at the floor.

“Forgive me.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Nothing but the plot, and OCs 
> 
> AN: Fili grows a conscience. :P  
> As always, we are extremely happy to see such awesome response from you guys! Thank you very much~~

“It doesn’t somehow feel right,” Fili said demurely looking out from his chamber out into the vast mountainous forests already laced with the first signs of winter.

“What doesn’t feel right?” He heard Kili shift behind him at which, he half turned towards his brother.

“This whole ordeal. Uncle—“

He closed his eyes and pursed his lips, drowning the once familiar and lovable word which made him feel safe, before he opened them again, “Thorin met his fate because of his extended generosity to the elves. Our stock is reduced and on the verge of depletion and yet we still go on delivering the supplies to Mirkwood. I do not see how this has solved anything!”

Kili seemed to ponder for a while. That he was inexperienced and still childish showed through clearly when confusion marred his features. However, the glance of innocence soon vanished away leaving no traces behind when yet gain his princely demeanour returned—the same which provoked the new change in the first place.

His eyes settled with a calculating gaze and his jaws hardened before he spoke with the perfect tone of one who was fit to be a regal authority of Erebor. “Which is why we are gradually reducing our exports before we cut them off completely.”

“But the problem of our people starving still persists!” Fili turned fully to face his brother, his voice rising with latent frustration he had tried so hard to keep hidden. He noticed how Kili’s cold facade broke for a while, revealing the startle on his face before one more the mask was put back in place.

Fili saw the change take place all to clearly and all too alarmingly causing his chest to ache with an unknown pang. He still was not able to grasp how the youngest of them all- the most pampered of them all had such a radical transformation. He was shocked then when Kili first approached him and he was shocked now as well. However, it needed more effort on his part to hide what h e truly felt and so he went on, keeping ‘the prince’ away from his own persona for the time being.

“And you forget, it has been too long. The Mirkwood elves must wonder where their king is and how he fares. Once we cut off the supplies, who’s to say how they will react?”

“So what do you want? Release the elf?” Kili’s voice was disdainful, piercing his brother in more ways than one.

“You do understand we can’t do that. If the elf speaks, word will reach the Blue Mountains. Dain Ironfoot will surely avenge his cousin and Erebor will be ruined. And the elves? If they come to know what has been done to their king, do you truly believe they will allow that? Mad or not, Thorin tortured that thing. We made him a servant. That in itself is a damaging insult!”

The sharp shards piercing Fili now stung him with their cold harshness. When had his brother become so...tactful? When had Kili become so cold and calculating that it even felt strange to his own brother?

Yet there was no fallacy in his words. Fili knew—as much as he wished against it somewhere deep within—he knew that Kili’s logic was impeccable. Thranduil couldn’t be released. They had to operate the way they were doing so at present.

He nodded slowly and turned his back, gazing out into the forest once more, hoping to find any peace among the internal torment he faced every moment.

“Bring me the elf. I want to see him being engaged in service.”

 He found none.

Kili nodded and left.

Fili sighed. Deep within him, he knew that this was wrong on some level. That Thorin was wronged and that one day, he would have to answer to his ancestors. One day, he would have to pay.

 

* * *

 

 

Thranduil was in the lower parts of the mountain palace, he had been placed with other servants although at the same time he had very little contact with them as well, his days mostly consisted of scrubbing floors and taking care of the palace linen, it was tedious but it did seem to satisfy Harrak and Dimo enough that they left him alone, save for a few taunts and hateful glares. He clearly remembered that encounter he had with them in the dungeon…and Thorin having witnessed it all. The shame burned Thranduil like dragon fire and he couldn’t even bring himself to look at Thorin after they had finished with him. He wasn’t sure how long he had simply lain on the cold stone floor not even moving before he forced himself to pull on his tattered clothes and leave the dungeons.

 Thranduil wouldn’t return to Thorin until he had some way of making things right again, he felt there was no point in hoping Thorin still felt something for him with what he had witnessed…how could he possibly feel anything but revulsion? Thranduil sighed as he tried to focus on his _work_ although in the back of his mind his thoughts were consumed with rescuing Thorin.

He was brought out of his thoughts when Kili walked up to him. “My brother the King requires your presence.” He said implying there was no choice to be had; if he was required he would have to go.

Thranduil scowled at the tone though, this young prince and his brother both conspired against their kin and these children has no right to hold the throne much less call themselves family to Thorin. Although he knew he really had no choice in the matter as he nodded silently and was shown to an overly lavish room, it seemed Fili preferred the indulgent benefit of being a King.

Fili looked up from the manuscript he held in his hand when a soft knock distracted him. He ordered entrance. The door opened slowly revealing behind it a tattered form. He couldn’t help but wince inwardly at the sight before him. In place of a proud and glamorous figure who would glide across the floor with his confident stride, there stood before him a lessened form who had his head bowed and steps measured and devoid of the pride he once had.

Fili signalled the door to be closed and eyes the other intently. He sensed a discomfort coming off from the other but he supposed it was because of the sudden turn of events.

“How long do you think your people will be graced by our help?” He asked sharply, approaching the other and slowly starting to circle him.

The sudden stiffness in Thranduil’s form did not go unnoticed and neither did the little shift in the elf’s movement as if he tried to guard himself from something that might count as a threat.

Fili narrowed his eyes in suspicion. He did not summon Thranduil for the purpose of humiliating him. By the looks of it, Thranduil had good share of it. No. He was summoned to fulfil something else. Fili’s curiosity.

“Regardless of what you may think,” he paused when the elf’s eyes darted over at him, flickering with something—a slow burning emotion that was too vague to be counted as rage. He again circled the other and went on, “Regardless of what you may think, I did not wish for this day to come. I did not want to believe Thorin succumbing to the curse. But here I see the reality. I see his attitude.” He stopped when he was face to face with the other. “But what baffles me most is _your_ attitude. How can you rebel so madly for the one who humiliated you, threatened you, _harmed_ you just so he could have his obsession fulfilled?”

He scowled at Thranduil’s lack of response and in order to make their eyes meet, he tugged hard at the elf’s arm, bringing him to his knees before placing a vicelike hold on Thranduil’ chin and forcing him to look up. Even under submission, Fili clearly saw defiance burning in those lethal blue eyes before they faded quickly into forced neutrality.

“Why do you still defend him?” He hissed, unable to control his anger any longer. “Why do you fight for him even when he extended his hand just to satisfy himself? How can you still defend him even after he _defiled_ your honour? What is it? Strategy? Conspiracy?”

Suddenly he faltered in his words and his hand shook as a torrid understanding washed over him.

“Or is it love?”

Thranduil sighed deeply and stayed silent to Fili’s comments, if the supplies were still being sent to Mirkwood? Thranduil had honestly thought all shipments would be halted, he had no control over what was sent though, he never did to begin with and if his people were still receiving aid from Erebor then it was upon Fili, he could not blame his uncle this time for the depletion of their supplies. He tensed when Fili circled him seeming to size him up as he was roughly brought to his knees not a few moments later, rage boiled inside Thranduil from the total lack of regard Fili seemed to have for everything he had set in motion.

“You certainly are enjoying the benefits of this day you wished never to come…and you are wrong about Thorin, he isn’t mad, and you have made the most terrible and grievous mistake of your entire life, I pray you see that before it’s too late.” Thranduil said softly listening to what Fili had to say as he expressed his confusion for Thranduil’s devotion.

 

Thranduil shook his head. “I had mentioned before that Thorin has never raised a hand to me in malice, we argued of course but he has never been inappropriate or crossed a line with me…he wouldn’t hurt me, I’m not even sure if he would be capable of such cruelty.” Thranduil said almost positive that Thorin could never do what Harrak and Dimo had; he was simply not able to do such things.

When Fili mentioned the word *love* it stabbed Thranduil in the heart. In all honesty he thought he had fallen in love with Thorin, he defended him so he could protect him and he wanted to rectify the mistake of him being imprisoned…but he had tossed the possibility of them ever being together after Thorin’s witness to his defilement…he did love Thorin, but he was sure that Thorin no longer felt the same for him.

“I do love him.” Thranduil said softly. “Why does that matter to you?” He turned his eyes to Fili which were no longer burning in anger but rather filled with sorrow.

The accusation pierced Fili deeply. He choked out a breath as if his throat was being strangled by unseen hands, crushing his heart and lung in process.

He immediately took a step back, startled that even the softest words could wrench so much hurt in him and clenched his eyes shut. Images flashed in his mind—his uncle’s smile from days past; Thorin’s pride shining in his eyes the day Erebor was reclaimed but what stood out the most in a  sickening light was the look on Thorin’s face when he was dethroned. By his own kin nonetheless. Thorin was crushed and as his face ghosted in Fili’s mind, he couldn’t help but feel the tremendous burn of shame while it engulfed his entire being.

“You may think me as an opportunist,” he stated in a tone barely rising above a whisper. “But do _not_ make the mistake of blaming all of this upon my ‘greed’. I have and will always put my people’s welfare ahead. I have seen it. I saw—it had to be done!”

His voice rose at the end of his speech reflecting the anger, the shame and the pent up frustration he always seemed to have in his chest. He saw Thranduil’s defiant gaze moulding into one of concern as he took the younger one in, his brows furrowing instantly when Fili dropped on his knees and pointed a sharp look at the other.

“Isn’t mad? Then how do you explain these signs?” He hissed with acid in his tone but the disdain he felt was not for the elf’s supposed ignorance but more for the fact that he was again brought to question what he asked himself several times over. “How do you explain the obsession, the unlikely ignorance towards his people when they starve and warn him and yet their pleas go unheard? How do you explain the darkness you saw about him when you first arrived here? Have you completely forgotten your initial treatment or have you in your twisted mind made some justification?”

It was ironic how he even considered Thranduil justifying Thorin’s action when truly _he_ was the one trying to be answerable for every single thing that made everyone deduce Thorin contracting the dragon sickness. He wanted a reasonable conclusion; he wanted to grab on hold of the very fine belief he thought to be true but yet again when he was face to face with the same question, Fili found the belief slipping dangerously from between his fingers.

“Do you think it was easy for me?” He panted hard, trying to drown out the sorrow which was welling up within him. “Do you even know what went through me—through us—when they first told about Uncle? It was not an easy decision. He has raised us, he is our kin, our blood! He’s the only one we had left! And *you* tore him away from us!”

No more could he keep his true emotions hidden. The grief that tormented him, the wild desire to have someone be blamed tore through him and even as he yelled at Thranduil, he couldn’t help feel a stab at his heart digging deeper and deeper as a devious voice at the back of his mind whispered Fili that it was his own undoing.

His eyes widened suddenly when Thranduil’s words entered his ears. Thranduil had never been touched? Thorin never touched him? But how could it be?

At that moment, Fili felt his mind spinning wildly as thousands of thoughts ran in it, crashing against each other, making each one of them utterly incomprehensible.

“What do you mean? Thorin had not raped you?”

His heart was hammering against his chest; his eyes were wide and fearful, colour bleeding away from his face as the reality he thought to be true crashed and crumbled in front of his eyes.

“Are you protecting him? Is that it?” He sounded desperate as he held Thranduil by his upper arms and searched his eyes for any sign of deception. And he was. He _was_ desperate.

“Tell me, is this not your blind devotion speaking? It has to be! It HAS to be!” There was no form of deception. Thranduil indeed spoke the truth and it was that which crushed him. “It is not, is it?”

His whole form now began shaking as utter shame washed him over. All of a sudden, he felt a tremendous weight on his legs, forcing him to be in place and on his head which prevented him from turning it.

Al this time he badly tried to believe that his actions were right; that he was right. It was at that moment he realized that all the while he tried justifying his actions to other, what he had really been doing was trying to convince himself of his pure intention for the dreadful sin he had committed.

All this time he was _wrong_.

And when Thranduil admitted his love, Fili felt himself completely broken while something crushed his lungs and heart. His eyes were burdened with guilt and shame. He couldn’t look up; he couldn’t face Thranduil. The wrench in his heart worsened at what Thranduil asked him next.

Why should it matter?

“I do not know,” he admitted truthfully in a shy voice, “Perhaps...because if you proclaimed so sooner, then this day would never come where my hands discarded the existence of my uncle...”

His eyes slid shut, clenching hard as his face twisted with the full force of shock and sorrow that roughly collided against him.

What had he done?

“I hated you for driving him to insanity. I hated you for being so selfish. I wished you gone but I couldn’t! If you go back, Erebor will burn.”

Suddenly he looked up at the other, his eyes shining with plead of forgiveness as he spoke, “If you both were exiled, would you be able to take care of him? Keep him safe and hidden?”

Thranduil licked his lips, them having gone dry as he witnessed Fili falling deeper and deeper into his own guilt at what he had done. He felt a small pang of sympathy for the young dwarf but it was gone as quickly as it had come.

“Even if you knew of my feelings I doubt it would have changed anything, you listened to what others had said with blind acceptance and with the rumours you only saw what you already feared to be true,” Thranduil grit out. “And no…Thorin never raped me, you know him Fili, he is your uncle how could you think he would do something so heinous?” Thranduil asked although it was more of a statement.

Thranduil was uncertain with Fili’s last statement. “You have not the power to exile me Fili; I am not under your command. I am an Elf and King of Mirkwood and I would return to my throne if I left Erebor…I would like to say I could keep him hidden and keep him safe, I could do that if he would but let me, but you know he will not abide this betrayal. He will always fight for what is rightfully his…” Thranduil said turning his face away from Fili a thought crossing his mind momentarily making him scoff a little, that day he spent with Thorin in the forest, Thranduil supposed from that moment on he had become Thorin’s and Thorin fought to reclaim him as well.

“Only because I saw with my own eyes! I was _there_! I _saw_ you falling from the stairs! I saw you _bleed_!” It was too much to handle. Whatever Thranduil said was true and it burned his skin like a viguours fire spreading and consuming his very existence. His voice rose once more but this time, the surety he usually possessed vanished entirely leaving behind nothing but realization and the creeping sense of self-loathe. “I saw you bleed. And then Uncle and you—“

The more he fumbled with words, faster those words failed him till his mind drew blank numbing his thoughts. It lasted for the briefest of moments before a cold feeling settled in his chest, freezing the very core of his heart with a horrendous truth.

“What have I done?” His voice struggled to escape his throat. His eyes were wide with hurt and shock and as he brought up his hands to cover his pallid face, they shook tremendously as did the very foundation of his beliefs.

He doubted his own kin? His blood? He saw Thorin and he immediately jumped to such disgusting conclusion instead of thinking it over! Did Thorin not deserve a benefit of the doubt? Did he not deserve a chance?

The shock began wearing off; determination swept in its place.

Thranduil was right. Thorin would never stand the betrayal. He would fight to reclaim what was his and when to came to his honour, Fili knew how ruthless his uncle could be. He had seen it many times. He hoped to see it again.

His eyes narrowed with resolve. The ice in his chest began to melt by the heat of burning willpower ignited at its hearth.

Thorin deserved a chance. He was meant to live with honour; not rot in a dungeon for something which was entirely faked. He deserved another chance and Fili would ensure that.

He quickly directed his gaze at the other. “I am king here,” he replied with a certain authority which almost matched with that possessed by Thorin, “And right now you are under servitude. You serve _me._ Within _this_ kingdom, I hold every power as your master to decide your fate and that of my uncle.”

He inhaled deeply and settled himself before he went on, “I shall make the arrangements. Be ready at nightfall. Wait for my signal. Routine will have guards rotating their shifts. This change will last for a few moments. Those few moments will have Thorin unguarded. That will be your chance to free him. I shall have a transport ready; you will have necessities which will last a few days. Escape.”

Thranduil slowly brought himself to his feet and eyed Fili with close regard, he wasn’t so sure he trusted him, but this might be the only opportunity that he would have.

 “And what will you do?” Thranduil asked simply wondering what this new _King_ had planned, did he not know that by releasing them he could very well be placing himself in danger?

 “Harrak and Dimo.” Thranduil stated which earned a puzzled look from Fili. “They are not to be trusted.” Thranduil said feeling himself almost choke on the words as he had tried so hard to stay silent about them, but if Fili was giving him the chance to escape so he would give him the chance to save himself.

Confusion swept Fili’s features when Thranduil mentioned none other than two of his advisors. The ones who had _supported_ Fili and counselled him on every move...the ones who approached him with the proposition to become a king and the ones who suggested Thranduil to be still kept in Erebor. It didn’t take long for his suspicion to solidify into pure horror as he understood the very implication Thranduil was making.

There was indeed no reason for Thranduil to be kept in Erebor. If he was mistreated by a demented king, and if said king was punished accordingly, then Erebor would have very less chance of being attacked. If Thranduil was returned unharmed, the elves would hold no grudge against the dwarves and word would surely spread of the mad king’s dethronement which would confirm the whole of Erebor not involved in some sort of conspiracy.

A flash went through his mind with that very trail of thought.

Thranduil couldn’t be returned! He knew something too devious to be split! He knew something that could cost life and if he indeed loved Thorin, then it would make perfect sense for the feisty elf king to take up this unlikely submission _just_ to spare the one which he considered to be the most precious.

And he knew their names...

“It had been them all along,” Fili wheezed out and shook his head, berating himself mentally for being so foolish and blind! Those two...they had poisoned him and his brother. They had hatched such a heinous plan and it was they who raped Thranduil and planted the most unthinkable seed of doubt.

He steeled himself however and decided to focus on the task at hand. If there was any hope, it lay with Thorin. He had to be freed regardless of Fili’s own fate.

Fili smiled bitterly at Thranduil’s question.

“I’m disposable. Thorin is not. Save him.”

Thranduil didn’t agree that Fili was disposable, but he had crossed a very dangerous line in telling Fili the truth, and it simply wasn’t safe for him or Thorin anymore, once Harrak and Dimo caught wind of this they would surly kill them both, nothing would stand in their way.

“We will be ready by nightfall; I swear to you I will keep him safe.” Thranduil proclaimed with a slight bow of his head, he turned to leave but stopped momentarily. “You can be a great King Fili, you are putting your kingdom and people before your own welfare and that’s a start…you are still young, everyone makes mistakes.” He said softly before leaving Fili alone.

Fili watched Thranduil leave with nothing but a dull throbbing warmth flickering in his heart though he thought better not to dwell on it. He had work to do.

 

* * *

 

The night had not come soon enough for Thranduil, he had tried to go about his day as if everything was normal but at every little noise, every voice, he jumped unable to contain his anxiety. Once they reached the outside things would be much easier but while they were still inside the mountain their position was perilous. Twilight was beginning to blanket the land and Thranduil as quietly as possible made his way out of the servant quarters and toward the dungeon.

Fili had lived up to his promise. He had made all the necessary arrangements which would help them in their escape. He was also thoughtful enough to send Thranduil one of his old garments which he advised the elf to change when they were relatively safe at Thranduil’s request. He wasn’t yet ready to divulge everything which he was forced to endure in Erebor, save that which was utterly necessary.

Earlier that day he had been slipped a key that would allow him to unchain Thorin. He had worries and doubts about seeing Thorin again but he had made a promise to Fili and he would keep that promise. He had also made a promise to Thorin that he would do whatever he could to make things right. Even if Thorin wanted nothing more to do with him it didn’t matter, he could at least help him escape and keep him safe in the meantime…it didn’t matter what Thorin thought of him, he wouldn’t pass up this opportunity in spite.

 

 

Night had fallen and even in his dark cell, Thorin could feel the silence creeping along with the encroachment of night. A guard had come once with a plate of food which was recklessly thrown at him. The offering of an insult was not forgotten by the dwarf. He teased the former king; taunted him with words but when Thorin spared nothing but an apathetic glance at the other, the dwarf bristled before he left.

Thorin was once more left to his own thoughts. And times like these were what truly caused him his eternal fears. Whenever he was left alone, his mind would spiral back to the sweet memories of Thranduil’s face when the elf came down to meet him. Where there was nothing but despair in the cell, Thranduil’s face provided light. Where there was nothing but distrust, there was brightness and honesty in Thranduil’s eyes and the kiss they shared was full of so many silent promises.

However, this was the only bliss which his thoughts provided for soon after, the sweetness would disappear and the aftermath of mutiny which his One had to face— that Thorin was forced to witness—would haunt him forever.

A sudden noise of the dungeon door unlocking made Thorin flinch. He looked up at the stairway, narrowing his eyes when an indefinite silhouette seemed to approach him. As the figure drew near, the shadow became sharper and more defined. Its blur decreased; its form became slender and finally when it started making its way down the steps, Thorin‘s eyes grew wide with extreme shock and a deep fear clenched his heart.

“No,” he wheezed as his lungs felt like being crushed by a sheer force, expelling his entire breath. “You fool. No!”

“You are demented!” He growled eying a dark corner where Thranduil set his gaze upon, his heart fluttering and chilling with fear at the same time as he looked up at Thranduil with horror written in his eyes.

Thranduil had managed to stay almost completely silent and unseen throughout his decent into the dungeon, when Thorin called out to him he involuntarily winced praying no other heard the outburst. He quickly as possible walked up to the bars pressing a finger to his own lips, telling Thorin they needed to be quiet. He understood Thorin’s apprehension considering what happened the last time they had crossed paths, but this was different, he had to move quickly the guard exchange only took minutes so he had to move fast.

Thranduil quickly unlocked the bars and proceeded to remove the shackles that bound Thorin who was looking at him in utter shock. “I’ll explain later…” Thranduil said in a hushed whisper as he motioned for Thorin to follow. “We have to move now, we don’t have much time.”

“Explain what?” Thorin almost barked out—as rasped as possible. Thranduil’s gestures and even his intentions warned him not to make any sound whatsoever. He knew what a high risk the elf was already taking by just being here.

He looked down once as Thranduil began freeing him. His hand holding the keys were now completely void of the poise he usually possessed. As Thorin’s binds were unlocked, he could clearly see the tremble setting in Thranduil’s fingers, their coordination growing more impatient more amateurish.

Finally, Thranduil was done and before Thorin could even think of protesting he was almost yanked up by the elf and pressed tightly against his side while Thranduil led cautious steps towards the exit.

Minutes passed in silence and utter anxiety as they quietly made their way out the dungeons and down at the servants’ quarters. It was at the very heart of the mountain and any novice would end up losing his way because of its numerous tunnels and corridors. And yet Thranduil seemed to know his way. In fact, it was _he_ who was practically leading both of them and this very fact filled Thorin’s head with innumerable questions.

“How did you—“

He gasped as Thranduil’s hand pushed him against a wall along with himself. Thorin had opened his mouth to ask for an explanation but soon snapped it shut when footsteps echoed from the opposite end along with the bored tone of two dwarves.

“Did you hear something?” Asked one of them, stopping dangerously close to the edge of the wall. The dwarves went absolutely silent, making Thorin to suck in his breath and hold it. He did not trust himself to inhale softly and while the dwarves trying their best to pick up any sound, he prayed to the Mahal that they could never pick up the noise of his heart pounding loudly against his chest.

Thranduil’s hand—the one which was still on his chest—was trembling slightly as poise seemed to fleet from Thranduil’s demeanour. Thorin cast a glance. Thranduil was biting his lips. His chest was struggling to heave as the elf tried hard to swallow down his anxiety that he felt within him.

“Oh c’mon! You’ve had too much ale.” The other one said.

“You heard nothing? Are you sure?”

“It is night time. The only thing I hear is my ear ringing from my wife’s horrid song. Ow come on!”

Slowly the first dwarf gave in and moved away. His steps were hesitant, they were less willing but eventually he agreed with his friend’s reasoning.

“Y’er probably right. Maybe I was hearin’ things,” he reasoned and approached away from the other two in hiding.

When the footsteps faded completely, Thorin felt Thranduil’s hand dropping from his chest, making him sigh in relief.

Finally, they had managed to reach an isolated part of the mountain—a route built for the king to escape during times of crisis—a route rarely used by anyone. A crisis which matched their very predicament.

Thranduil could clearly hear the confusion and apprehension in Thorin’s voice as they made their way through the winding corridors, but he couldn’t answer him, now was simply not the time. Thranduil was given the way through the hallways prior to this, and he prayed that he was going the right way but if he happened to make a wrong turn Thorin would have surely corrected him by now.

The sound of voices forced Thranduil to uncharacteristically press himself against the wall holding his breath and hide from eyes that would surly spoil their escape, he had his hand pressed against Thorin’s chest and he would feel how hard the dwarf’s heart was beating, almost in the same rhythm as his own. If they were seen, if they were discovered it would be the end of them both and they only had one option right now and that was escape, there was no turning back.

They made their way lower, through the servant quarters which were blessedly unoccupied, they would all be back to their rooms soon but this was the only time where all were busy finishing up their final duties of the day, and to the secret route that Fili had promised. Thranduil felt a little relief that it wasn’t all a lie; he had a fear that it was all a trap to simply get rid of them both, but to allow them this far with no hitch  it seemed that they would be able to actually escape that this nightmare would soon be over.

They came to small wooden door and Thranduil could practically taste the night air just outside but Thorin gently took hold of his arm preventing him from taking those final steps although Thranduil pulled away almost instantly. He didn’t hate the touch, but something inside him still felt that he was unworthy, he had proven himself undeserving of Thorin’s kindness, he was only here now to repay a debt and to try and amend some of the damage he had caused…he expected nothing else.

“We have to move.” Thranduil said.

Thorin’s expression shattered when Thranduil pulled away without offering any sort of explanation. He couldn’t fathom if it was because of the nerves of that the elf simply despised him for whatever had been done. The shock he wore soon schooled into disappointment which too didn’t last long. Thranduil’s urgent voice rang in the silence which surrounded them breaking Thorin from his wallow and reminding him to be alert and be on his guard.

“Move where?” Thorin asked, hoping that Thranduil would soon give an explanation of outrunning the entire might of Erebor for so far, he saw nothing but a grand mountainous terrain lying ahead of them.

Thranduil seemed to be recollecting something in his head and before Thorin knew it, the elf sprinted off taking a sharp corner with Thorin soon following him. As they ran, the surroundings registered in Thorin’s mind. The path they were upon grew more and more ancient and signs of unused littered everywhere in the form of moss and weeds, winding along the edge of the palace.

They finally halted and took shelter behind a large slab of stone outlooking a small area. It was pitched in darkness so much that Thorin had to squint for his eyes to adjust to it.

“We better have transport,” He whispered, half expecting Thranduil’s reply though he didn’t need one. The grunt which came followed by a snort was more than enough and it was then that Thorin literally felt his heart leap in his throat as anxiety and thrill poured in it from all directions.

 

* * *

 

 

In the palace, a guard sauntered towards the dungeon gates. It was deep into the night and his break had lasted longer than was expected of him as did his celebration. The extra share of his ale was not strong enough but also not weak enough to keep him up and lively as he yawned his way down the stairs.

Out of habit, he made way to a particular cell in a leisurely manner.

 Moments later, he wobbled and stumbled up the stairs, almost running to whoever he could find. His eyes were wild with panic and his face lost its entire tinge as the effect of the ale disappeared within a blink of an eye.

He searched frantically, hoping to find anyone. His heart sunk when he noticed a very familiar figure making his way towards his chamber. Without a second thought, he ran towards the other, catching his attention immediately.

His breath heaving with dread and shock, the guard blurted out, “My Lord Kili, the prisoner has escaped!”

Kili was calming walking down the empty corridors of the mountain palace thinking, his thoughts were mainly upon his brother and the responsibility that had been placed upon him so quickly, he had doubts about everything that had happened with his family but he did not doubt Fili’s ability and he hoped that his brother would soon realize his own capabilities, they needed a strong leader in this time…weakness would not be taken kindly too. 

Kili knew his brother had been somewhat apprehensive all day, so Kili thought he would get something soothing, fresh tea herbs from the apothecary. Just as he was making his way toward his brother’s chamber a guard came running up to him frantically, practically screaming about an escaped prisoner. There really were no other prisoners who earned a place in the palace dungeon except Thorin.

“Quickly get a small force together and search for him! I will inform the king.”  On his way he informed another guard to detain the elf and if he tried to escape place him in the dungeon as well, although he had no idea that Thorin and Thranduil were both missing.

The guard bowed hastily and scampered off to carry out his orders while Kili ran towards the other direction.

Kili sprinted off quickly to his brother’s chamber as he burst into the room without so much as a knock. “Brother! Thorin has somehow escaped the dungeons; I have already sent guards to go in search of him.” He said quickly.

Fili was quite startled when his brother had burst in and all his resolve of not jumping failed when the screeching sound of his brother echoed throughout the room. He jolted out of the chair upon which he was sitting and hissed, “Escaped? How did he manage to escape?”

He prayed desperately for his raised voice to sound natural. His brother was sharp and despite being inexperienced, Kili was very intuitive and could easily pick up reality of falsity.

“What about the elf? Is he gone too?” He hoped that they had. He hoped that they both have had the time to flee.  He suddenly went towards the rack where he kept his sword and stormed out of his chamber, motioning for Kili to follow.

“We must not waste time,” he scoffed intending to do just the opposite as he led both of them towards a path which would by no means lead to the secret passage he had informed Thranduil of. “They must still be within reach. Gather up some dwarves. Search every inch of the palace perimeter. They must be found!”

He felt Kili’s eyes upon him and as his little brother spoke, Fili’s own heart—gripped with a dangerous mix of thrill and anticipation—beat so erratically that it seemed like it wanted to be ripped out from his chest. A strange feeling shrouded his chest and Fili hoped that his pretense would not be seen through.

Fili knew that it would not take long for Erebor to know about the escape. He just hoped that there was enough time for Thranduil and Thorin to put a great amount of distance between themselves and the Lonely Mountain.

Kili for a moment followed his brother’s suit. “I sent someone to detain the elf…” He began but no sooner had he said the words that very guard came up to the two brothers informing them that the very elf was missing as well, this news making Kili scowl. “We should have gotten rid of that blasted elf as soon as possible! I’m sure he’s behind this, he somehow helped in Thorin’s escape I know it!”

He stopped for a moment seeing the direction his brother was heading which made him question what his brother was doing. “Wait, we should check the passageways no other but the royal family knows about them and it needs to stay that way. We need to check them, the guards can handle the rest of the palace but I wouldn’t doubt Thorin would leave through them if given the opportunity.”

An immense amount of relief flowed through Fili’s veins before he became taut with alertness. He could not let his guard down. He could not break his character when everything was finally going as it should be!

He forced a scowl on his face and sneered at the dwarf who had informed them of Thranduil’s escape, “You incompetent fool! You had better find him by dawn or it will be _you_ who will take Thorin’s place in the dungeons!”

He forced down a shiver which he felt in his spine as Kili’s tone reached his ears. So much hatred; so much animosity belied Kili’s youthful nature. And as the very words were spewed, Fili could feel the burn intensifying in Kili’s eyes as he glanced at his brother.

 Without waiting for the others, Fili promptly started moving in a direction only to be stopped by his own brother. His eyes flinched ever so slightly as Kili mentioned their next course of action. His brother’s face was hard and tense and as his eyes lingered much too longer on Fili, the young king’s heart twisted with a sudden bout of tension making him draw in a soft sigh.

Had he been found out? He faced his brother fully, meeting the coal black eyes which were now gleaming with an uncanny flame of despise before they hardened and became almost devoid of any signs of emotion that Kili felt at that point. Fili saw the transition; he saw how drastically Kili had mastered the ability to control his emotions and seeing his brother like that, Fili couldn’t help but feel an ominous sensation filling his heart.

“You are right,” he managed to agree, his heart now pounding against his chest, making it ache with stress and fear. “Give me a light. We must make haste.”

He started to move but with each step that he took, his heart sunk lower into his chest. His feet felt heavy; his arms felt cold and with each passing moment, Fili found it more and more difficult to breathe. However, Fili couldn’t back down now. If he tried to divert Kili’s attention to any other route, Fili would be instantly found out and it would not take long for them to find his uncle and Thranduil as well. 

* * *

 

The route was winding and extremely old. While Fili had memorised the secret maps handed down to him, he never had the chance to set his foot there. The tunnel was dark, a small circle of it fading into the light of the torch that Fili held in his hand. As they walked the winding way, not a single word was exchanged between the two brothers which increased Fili’s unsettling feeling all the more.

He took a sharp turn towards the right but within a heartbeat, he yelped as something sharp and hot pierced through his shoulder, making him throw down his torch.

“Kili!” he cried out to his brother looking up to him while he was about to warn the other to run. His face became pale as he soon came face to face with the other.  Just as Kili’s eyes narrowed at him, Fili felt his heart sink in the deepest shadows of his chest as his eyes grew wide with realization of what had just taken place.

He rasped, clenching his teeth when the pain in his shoulder became unbearable while a pair of strong hands gripped him from behind. Fili fought vehemently against his restrainers but the wound in his shoulder was too deep and too fresh, weakening him by a great amount.

He hissed at his captors when his arms were forced behind his back. A sharp pain exploded at the back of his head when something hard was smacked against it, making Fili drop on his knees as blood trickled down the side of his face.

He gazed up at his brother, who was standing before him with hatred erupting from his eyes. And now that he had been found out, Fili too shared the loath in equal amount as that shared by the elf and his uncle.

“Why?”

 

 

Thranduil quickly was securing a few of the supplies left for them to the saddle of the horse and pony that had been supplied to them; they were almost ready to depart. Thranduil could feel Thorin’s eyes boring into him and the look was making him fumble in his usual poise and precise grace, he knew his demeanor was slightly off but he couldn’t seem to shake this unnatural feeling that crept upon him like a cold chill…it seemed more dominant when Thorin was near.

“We should make our way to Mirkwood, you can stay there as long as you need once we arrive.” Thranduil said keeping his sentences as short as possible.

Thorin nodded wordlessly, forgetting that his motions were not visible in the darkness of the night. He silently followed Thranduil, his gaze affixed on the elf’s slender form as he made the last of the arrangements. Just as Thranduil was begin to mount, a scrunch of some dried leaves caught their attention, making both of them snap their heads towards the source of the sound.

“What was that?” Thorin asked mostly to himself.

For a long while they stood absolutely still, ensuring that they were not being followed. Thorin’s heartbeat spiked immensely as the wait seemed like stretching for ages. His breaths were caught in his throat. His feet felt cold with dread and nervousness with each passing moment.

His eyes flickered when the noise was heard again; then again and again and this time each sound was louder than the last. He struggled to cast a glance at Thranduil only to find the elf standing with extreme rigidness.

Thorin quickly shrugged off the stupor which had gripped him and took the reins of his pony. Before he could even set foot on the stirrup, a grunt reached his ears followed by a loud thump on the ground and wheezing breaths, making him jump and turn at the very direction.

Soon enough, a light shone upon them startling Thorin to great heights. However, what he saw a moment later made the entire sky crash down upon his head.

Before him knelt his eldest nephew with a bloodied shoulder, a bloodied head and the deepest apologetic look in his despairing eyes.

“Fili!” 

 

Fili heard his brother scream, although it was not out of pain. He was outraged, he was angry at him, as all the pieces slowly fell into place.

Kili couldn’t believe what had just happened; his brother had planned this entire escape! He had given both the elf and Thorin the means to escape, didn’t he realize what would happen to Erebor if Thorin was to get away, he had warned Fili of the consequences and he seemed to not even care!

Although he was in great pain Fili needed to see, he needed to make sure his uncle was gone along with the elf. He took a few struggling breaths as he practically fell through the door although his heart sank almost instantly upon hearing his uncle’s voice calling his name. Fili winced when Thorin went to his side instantly with concern sweeping his features.

Why? How could Thorin possibly feel anything for him except hate? After everything he had done, after allowing himself to believe idle gossip and be manoeuvred onto the throne, practically stealing what was rightfully Thorin’s…he still cared?

“You…you must make haste you must leave now!” He screamed through his struggled breathing, he didn’t want Thorin to suffer anymore than he already had.

It took less than a moment for Thorin to forget his need of stealth; it took even lesser to forget the ambush Fili had brought upon him. All of that did not matter at that point. With his nephew breathing hard and in terrible pain, Thorin was more than ready to forsake his own freedom if only to spare the life of his sister son.

He swept to Fili’s side and quickly lifted his carriage by his shoulders. Now that the extent of of Fili’s wounds became more visible, Thorin froze with sheer terror.

His heart wrenched and surprise flooded him, boggling his mind and spinning whatever sanity he had left within him.

It was Fili? Had it been him all along who had endeavoured to arrange for their escape?

All of a sudden, he felt a cold chill run down his spine as the next trail of thought crashed against his mind. Fili was injured; he was hurt and bleeding and the wound he suffered was unmistakably that made by a sword. Did that mean Fili had been discovered?

He felt his pulse stop, blood freezing in his veins. His hands trembled much like the flicker of hope he felt in his heart as he ghastly stared at the pleading eyes of his nephew.

Fili’s next words only served to wrench his heart even more with despair.

“And you,” he started under his breath before panic took over and his voice took on a more desperate tone. “And you? What do you plan to do?”

Fili narrowed his eyes, silently speaking his intention at which, Thorin’s face twisted with shock, grief and a gruesome fear before he snarled ferociously, “You will not stay! You will not stay back, you hear me? You will come with us!”

He saw his nephew direct his glance at Thranduil who placed a gentle hand on Thorin’s shoulder. Thorin completely disregarded the touch and shook his nephew, trying to scream some sense into him. However, he was forced upon his feet and despite his struggles and thrashes, Thranduil kept a firm grip upon him, forcing him upon his pony while he mounted his own steed, directing both of their rides to run at full speed.

“No! Fili!” Thorin called out, even tried to steer his pony towards the opposite direction. However, Thranduil had a control over the pony’s reign and when Thorin tried to turn, Thranduil forced the mount to run ahead, leaving Thorin to do nothing but hiss in frustration and call out to his nephew.

He turned back and saw the vague form of three figures encroaching Fili. The sound of swords clashing against each other startled Thorin greatly making his eyes grow wide as he saw how despondently his older nephew fought against other three. Among the struggle, Fili called out once more, urging them to flee before an ear shattering scream pierced the air.

Thorin grit his teeth and clenched his eyes shut, turning away from the scene. It was out of his hands. Once again he helplessly witnessed a loved one suffer for him. Once again he was powerless. A sharp tug on the pony’s reign only scratched the surface of Thorin’s trance. He looked up and met Thranduil’s eyes, glittering with a silent plea asking thorin to honour his nephew’s bravery.

Thorin clenched his jaws, feeling the sharp pang drilling in his heart. It was too late. He could not save his nephew now.

Helpless, Thorin rode ahead.

Once again he was too late. Once again he was a failure.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: We own The Hobbit and its characters as much as we own the world. *sighs*
> 
> AN: Okay first and foremost- to all of you who have always reviewed, liked and subscribed to our fics- I wish we could express in words how happy ou all make us feel. e are really excited every time we read your comments and you guys want us to do even better! Thank you!
> 
> Now for this chapter...well...hold on tight~ it will get badass now!

Both Thranduil and Thorin rode hard and fast, pushing their rides as fast as they could possibly go. The quick pace was needed for it would not be long before others would be on their trail and if a confrontation was to occur it would not go over easily. Their best bet was to make it to the Mirkwood border and then set their horse and pony loose. Thranduil knew how to navigate the forest and the dwarves still feared the magic and enchantment enough to at least be hesitant to follow them inside. Thranduil hoped their suspicion and fear would keep them from entering the forest at all but until he was back in the safety of the palace again he would not be able to relax.

Thorin kept on looking behind himself as they rode, his concern for his kin was touching and Thranduil wished that they could have stayed to aid his young nephew, but Fili was right. They had to leave. If Fili had been discovered his brother would not be quickly trusted to assume the throne and it only left Thorin to reclaim what had been lost. Fili understood that which was why he urged them to leave him behind; Thranduil knew it pained Thorin to do such a thing for despite everything he still loved them.

Thranduil let out a deep sigh once they reached the Mirkwood border, twilight had descended and the night was approaching quickly. Thranduil dismounted waiting for Thorin to follow his lead while he removed the few supplies saddled to the horse before urging the horse to return from whence it came.  He looked at Thorin who was looking at the lonely mountain in the distance, concern and worry etched deeply into his face.

“I’m sorry about Fili…” Thranduil said although there was a small chance that Fili had not perished he couldn’t confirm it either. “We still have much ground to cover and the night will be upon us soon.” The words sounded so callous in Thranduil’s mind that he almost regretted saying them but the urgency of their situation forced him to disregard everything else but their need to flee.

The rest of the journey was nothing but a blur in Thorin’s mind. His whole body grew lethargic and the same spread to his head as well which recanted every moment of the anguish he felt just moments prior of fleeing.

He did not escape; he _fled._ Fled like a coward while his nephew stayed behind. Fili give them some time and his attackers his life. Just so Thorin could taste freedom again.

His heart stung as he kept his gaze upon the mountain top hazed by the great distance between them. His crib. Fili’s tomb.

His fists clenched into tight balls and a shuddering sigh escaped through gritted teeth as Thorin squint his eyes, trying to contain the tears gathering at the corners.

Thorin was ousted but given a second chance at life while Fili had taken what rightfully should’ve been _his_ place.

The fate of Thorin was just. That of Fili wasn’t. The cost paid was too great and too unjust.

Thranduil’s gentle voice rung in his ears like a distant echo at which Thorin only shifted his head a little. It was enough to let Thranduil know he was listening; more than enough to tell that he hardly cared.

He felt a hand upon his shoulder and out of instinct, he jerked it away, the energy required to do so fleeting immediately and apathy settling in even thicker than before.

“Take your horse and go,” he whispered finally in a tone so dark and devoid of any hope. “Your realm is close. Get to your safety.”

 “You need safety as well…I can offer you that for now, others will be looking for you and as you are now you are ill-equipped to defend yourself.” Thranduil said looking into the forest which he had missed so desperately the temptation to simply let Thorin be stubborn teasing his thoughts.

When Thorin flinched away from his touch Thranduil didn’t blame him, although he still pressured Thorin to take his advice. “Please come with me, you are all the hope Erebor had left and you cannot do anything for them right now…you needn’t ever see me again if that is your concern, I will give you lodging in the palace and any assistance you require, I won’t be a nuisance to you again, I will keep my distance.” Thranduil said still believing that Thorin no longer wanted him, which was all right for he could understand that and when Thorin flinched away from his touch it was all the confirmation Thranduil needed.

Thorin spun angrily, glowering up to the elf with a snarl on his face. “You ask me to hide in your forest and let my nephew share the fate designed to be mine?” He hissed violently, his body tense and shivering from the pent up anger and frustration stored within him.

 Thranduil’s words were true. Even in his subconscious, Thorin was well aware of that. However, somehow the very thought of losing another battle, the very thought of Thranduil yet again witnessing his helplessness burned inside Thorin’s chest, fanning the embers that had never been snuffed out.

His gaze was kept affixed on Thranduil’s bright orbs which flickered with mild astonishment when Thorin spoke before they softened for a while only for longing to seep in as Thranduil turned his eyes towards the forest.

At the very sight of it, Thorin’s face tightened along with his chest while his own eyes gleamed with an understanding making his heart pang with every shred of disappointment.

Thranduil was tired of him. He wanted to be rid of Thorin...

His brows furrowed as the pang now turned into a hot throb, pressuring down upon his heart.

He flinched visibly when Thranduil eagerly offered to keep himself away. His mind registered that which shouldn’t have been registered and as it did, it raced with countless of thoughts which once more resurfaced along with Thorin’s insecurities.

Was Thorin that much worthless for Thranduil to stay away? Did Thranduil not have faith in him? He didn’t, clearly! And why should he? What had Thorin ever done that would help him? Harrak and Dimo were right. It was Thorin’s own fault that Thranduil was in this predicament. It was Thorin who wanted Thranduil to be in the position that he was now! Thorin wanted him subdued. Thorin wanted him humiliated if only for his own pleasure and his own drive for revenge. It was Thorin’s own need for his love to be validated that made him put his kingdom in jeopardy as well as the one he cared the most! And when Thranduil was assaulted again and again, what could Thorin do? Nothing!

Why should then Thranduil want to associate with one who aimed to use him? Why should he place faith on one who swore to protect him?

Was Thorin so different? 

His breaths became short and even though he inhaled deeply trying to get rid of the uncomfortable tight sensation in his lungs, his breaths refused to come out making his chest ache even more.

He looked away from the other and clenched his fists, trembling as the sense of failure and worthlessness dripped inside of him.

“Go home,” he spoke through grit teeth. He took a shuddering breath and turned. When he lifted his eyes, all the anger he felt was lost amidst his pleads and desperation.

 “I can’t go with you. I can’t have your kingdoms fight a war which is not yours. Your palace will not provide me peace or my dignity. Do not take it away from me. I have to make it right,” he begged softly. “I have to make it right.”

“Thorin please…I know you want to help your people but for now there is not much that you can do. Please come with me, you can reach out to your kin, or if you wish re-supply and make your way to the iron hills I won’t stop you, I will assist you in any way I can but please…I beg of you to come with me.” Thranduil said wanting to reach out and hold him, to tell him everything would be all right. Thranduil’s home was so close he could taste the earthy air that left the dense forest and he longed to be back inside his homelands sanctuary, he hadn’t felt even remotely safe in such a long time…but he would not leave Thorin to fend for himself in the wilderness, just like he hadn’t so many years past he wouldn’t abandon him now either.

Thranduil managed to catch his eyes, they looked so angry and hurt with an almost desperate need to go charging back to Erebor to save him kin despite their betrayal. They stood outside the forest border looking at each other in silence for a long while and Thranduil waited for Thorin to either concede to follow or disregard him.

Thorin would perhaps never experience a shock greater than what he was already experiencing at that very moment.

Thranduil was still willing to put his faith in him? Even after everything had transpired between them? Even after the treatment Thranduil received because of Thorin’s own foolishness?

His guard dropped when Thranduil’s earnest eyes met his.

 His hands still clenched in fists shook with uncertainty and the crumbling of his stance. There was truth to Thranduil’s words, he knew that deep in his bones. And now that his rationale was once more taking a hold of him, a clear change was observed in his demeanour. His eyes mellowed, anger fading away gently and slowly. His restraint was turning into hesitation as his shoulders relaxed. His body language moulded into that of compliance and like gentle ebbing of a tide, his rage soon washed away only for exhaustion to take over.

With a deep sigh, he closed his eyes. His silence conveyed agreement to Thranduil’s offer. His bowed head conveyed that of gratitude but slight unwillingness as well.

Thranduil let go of his breath as relief washed over him. As long as he knew Thorin was safe it filled him with the greatest contentment, and as long as they were beside each other he could be certain of that, he knew he would have to let him go eventually it wasn’t fair to keep him by force and with the recent activity of his homeland he would return sooner rather than later, but Thranduil allowed himself to enjoy this specific moment.

 

 

Thranduil felt stronger once they were inside the seclusion of the forest, he knew that anyone who dared to follow them would not venture inside, and if they were foolish enough to follow they would have to stay on the marked path where Thranduil didn’t need to do so, so relatively they were safe. Mirkwood has always been a source of strength for Thranduil, the life force of the forest reacted to him as being a first born of the woodland realm, responding to his presence and aiding him with unseen energies that Thranduil had nearly forgotten in his absence. Thranduil partly wished he could convey this strength he received to Thorin; he looked weary from the travelling they had done thus far so Thranduil slowed his pace a little to allow the dwarf a little relief knowing Thorin would say nothing thinking it a sign of weakness.

It wasn’t long before they were stopped by Mirkwood’s guard force although their weapons were quickly lowered upon recognizing their King, the one in front bowed respectfully at his King.

“Forgive your majesty; we were not expecting your return this day.” He said. Usually word would had been given before any entered the border, I truth he wasn’t sure when their King would ever return, to the best of his knowledge he was still conducting business in Erebor. He stood and immediately noticed the dwarf.

Thranduil noticed his gaze and spoke quickly. “King Thorin of Erebor offered to escort me home, he was kind enough to show me hospitality and give us aid.” Thranduil said, the elves of Mirkwood need not know of the problems in Erebor. “Lead the way to the palace, we require rest from our journey.” Thranduil said the elf bowing before he began to lead the way.

Thorin had kept quite throughout the journey and even though he was to be comforted by Thranduil’s safety and presence once they were in the forest, he found his mind sinking more and more with depression.

The days were torturous. When Thorin should’ve been relieved, he found himself loathing his acquired freedom. Where reaching out to the one he loved was the most proper thing to do, he found himself drawing away from the elf whenever he tried to be approached. He caught hopefulness rising in Thranduil’s eyes when the elf offered him words of comfort and he did not miss the same faith flashing with pain when Thorin unwittingly turned Thranduil away. However, instead of grief, Thorin soon found understanding in Thranduil’s eyes. The elf understood his anguish. He too had lost his dear ones. He knew the pain too well.

As their journey neared towards its end, the tenseness in Thranduil’s body disappeared completely. He felt safe; he felt relieved and he felt rejuvenated. It was as if he soaked in the forests’ energy. The woods seemed to heal him faster than any medicine in the world and as he drunk its natural essence, Thranduil began regaining the light in his eyes which had dimmed with the unnatural treatment he was subjected to for days.

The light in Thranduil began to glow; that in Thorin’s burned. For even if he agreed to come, Thorin did nt have luxury and safety as his priority. His priority was to avenge. Fili was dead. They killed him. He needed supplies to avenge his sister son.

He was startled from his thoughts as their rides came to a halt. Thorin blinked and cast a glance around him, his eyes widening with remembrance when they fell upon the large gates before which he once stood. Soon they narrowed and darted over to an inspecting pair who seemed to be looking _down_ at him.  At that, Thorin’s own glare hardened and he sternly met the other’s gaze—level for level—before Thranduil intervened.

The exchanged somewhat eased the elf guard and not wanting to disobey his own king, he bowed and showed them in. Thorin still stood, his glare fixed upon the other’s back before flickering over to the direction of a gentle voice.

His gaze fell upon Thranduil who was waiting for him and asking him to follow. Those pale blue orbs were laced with concern and a certain doubt that Thorin couldn’t place his fingers upon. Thranduil’s body language was anticipatory. He was waiting; allowing Thorin to take his time but his gaze reflected expectation that Thorin would definitely not turn his back and leave.

Gritting his teeth, Thorin finally took a step inside the palace, blue eyes filling immensely with relief as he did. Offering him a small smile, Thranduil turned to follow the guard who was waiting for both of them. Thorin sighed and followed as well with a concern gnawing at his head.

It was obvious that the elves had not heard a word of whatever happened back in Erebor. He wondered how long their misperception would last.

Thranduil knew that once inside he would be ushered away from Thorin’s side although he made sure that Thorin’s quarters would be placed in a room close to his own, and be given something t eat, practically anything he requested Thranduil wanted it granted. Sure enough though, Thranduil was taken to the council rooms and away from Thorin although he was reluctant to do so.

Thranduil was pleased that his council was able to make good use of the supplies given and building repairs and distribution had already been underway for a few days. Many of the refuges that had been residing in the palace from the result of their homes being destroyed had moved out to assist in the rebuilding, there were few left in the halls that didn’t belong. This was in fact incredibly good news, once the homes were rebuilt it meant that farmers could tend their land once more and the famine would end once the new harvest came. Thranduil listened intently to everything the council needed to say and to inform him of all the efforts being made to make Mirkwood strong again, they made a few inquires of the events in Erebor although Thranduil kept his answers short and simple…he didn’t feel they needed to know the details of what he had endured for the sake of his people and as for the current state of Erebor they needed to focus on Mirkwood, he and Thorin could worry about Erebor, his council needed to focus on Mirkwood.

He spent what felt like hours in council but he knew it needed to be done; they needed guidance and as their King, Thranduil couldn’t simply disregard their needs so he obliged them and answered all questions to the best of his ability until everyone seemed exhausted and they parted ways until the morning to discuss anything further. From the council room Thranduil went straight to the room Thorin had been placed, he stood outside the door for a few minutes contemplating if he should bother him or not, he had told Thorin that he needn’t even see him again if that was his wish…maybe he should simply leave him alone, but Thranduil wanted to be positive that Thorin was being accommodated for any and all his needs, so he knocked softly on the door.

Thorin had been sitting in his allotted chamber, silent and unmoved ever since he had been left alone. There was food untouched and fresh clothes ignored. The luxury he received was impeccable and monumental as was his shame and restlessness.

He shouldn’t be here—screamed his mind. He was supposed to be in Erebor—fighting or rotting in a cell. Anywhere but here, hiding like a coward after all that he had undone and letting young ones fight his war.

He frowned with annoyance when he heard a soft knock on the door. He closed his eyes immediately after, realizing exactly who it was. It did make his heart flutter a little knowing that Thranduil still cared; that he still tried to help Thorin amend those which he broke. However, despite the tinge of happiness he felt deep within, his chest ached as apathy set in.

“You need only push the door,” he said, “Your limits do not apply here under your own roof.”

_And to me._

Thranduil heard the words behind the closed door and obliged, slowly pushing them open and stepping inside before shutting it behind himself. Thranduil noticed the food and clothing that had been provided remained untouched, although Thranduil didn’t blame him he had behaved exactly the same way when Thorin had offered him food in Erebor. Somehow it felt wrong to indulge when you knew others were suffering so he allowed Thorin to behave as he wished.

“I don’t mean to intrude, I wanted you to know that Mirkwood will not hear of the troubles in Erebor unless you wish it otherwise, also that I can have a raven messenger arranged and you can send word to the Iron Hills if that is your intention…and to thank you one last time for the aid you supplied, I realize with all the trouble I have caused that it hardly seems worth it but in my eyes the help was immeasurable…you saved us, and for that alone I am eternally grateful.” Thranduil said with a slight bow of his head. “Is there anything you need? Something that you want?” Thranduil offered wanting to make sure that Thorin had everything he needed, he would not have Thorin leave Mirkwood ill-equipped, he would help him any way he could.

Thorin still had the apathy about him and yet when Thranduil stepped closer, when his gentle unearthly voice spoke to him, Thorin couldn’t deny the warmth in his chest and the gentle beating of his heart warring with his grief.

His eyes flickered, settling upon the other who stood a few feet away from him. His heart panged a little as he took in the distance between them. Thranduil close but somehow out of reach, hesitance lacing his entire frame. It was as if he was waiting for Thorin’s _order_ to join him even after Thranduil knew well enough how unnecessary and irrational such courtesy was when it came to him and Thorin.

He couldn’t blame Thranduil entirely. Such borders were not draw out of Thranduil’s own volition. Thorin too had a hand in it.

“I did not start out of the goodness of my heart,” Thorin reminded gently, his gaze roaming all over Thranduil’s face, silently pleading the other to shred his hesitation to bits; to come closer.

“I would not want to start a war,” he replied with a small furrowing of his brows. “This is between me and my kingdom. I would be ashamed if I let others fight on my behalf yet again.”

His eyes flicked once when Thranduil made the tiniest of moves, hope pouring in him as he keenly waited for the el king to approach him. His chest ached for Thranduil’s touch, his mind screamed for Thranduil’s affection. However, when Thranduil didn’t so much as twitch, the gleam faded from Thorin’s eyes which hardened slowly as the tactician in him took over.

“But with you and me gone, I see no reason for Erebor to extend its help to your people. And when supplies cease to come in, people will wonder what might’ve changed. They will deduce why their king returned all so suddenly with only _one_ dwarf without any protection or consort. They will one day find out and even if they do not, they will have understood enough to wage war. What then? How will you keep it from happening?”

“You need not concern yourself with what might happen. The supplies that have already been sent are enough to sustain us until we can make good on our own, as far as the council is concerned I will tell them that what was have been given was all that could be spared, food rations will be regulated tightly but they won’t question me.” Thranduil said matter of factually, which was the truth. They might be curious but they wouldn’t pressure for answers either.

Thranduil sighed. “Mirkwood is not in a stable enough position to wage war, that alone is enough for me to keep it from happening Thorin. Our plight was because of war and the cost that goes along with it; I will not allow us to suffer more from battle…” Thranduil trailed off a little remembering seeing all of his fallen kin as a result of the five armies’ battle; they wouldn’t survive another war it would cause Mirkwod to fall to ruin.

Thranduil hesitantly stepped a little closer to Thorin. “Don’t worry about Mirkwood, you have your own to worry about and that is enough.” He said gently.

 Thranduil paused seeing a want in Thorin’s eyes although he was unsure as to what the look meant exactly. He had seen the look before, usually right before Thorin would reach out and touch him but it did confused Thranduil a little, not too long ago Thorin had recoiled from his touch and Thranduil had convinced himself that Thorin didn’t want him anymore after witnessing his violation and Thranduil thought that was a reasonable enough reason for what they had to disappear. Thranduil for the most part thought everything would be all right as long as Thorin never knew what he had endured...But he saw, he was a witness to his shame and after he had started to feel for Thorin it made the situation all the more unbearable, almost too much to withstand…he did want Thorin to reach for him, even if he was disgusted by him he still wanted Thorin to disregard it for a moment and touch him like everything was all right.

Frustration pent up in Thorin’s chest once more when Thranduil came with nothing but diplomacy. Not his concern? Surely Thranduil was not serious.

“But you invite battle just by keeping me here! Can you bear that risk?” He peered up at the other and met with the extreme honesty shining from Thranduil’s eyes.

He did not wish any harm to fall upon Mirkwood. No. He did not wish any harm to fall upon Thranduil because of his own foolishness. He had suffered enough; seeing his suffering already wounded Thorin. If anything further happened to Thranduil...

 His heart ached with a dull throb, worry eating its way in deep into his core. He clenched his fists, breathing hard through his teeth while he earnestly tried to keep his annoyance suppressed.

The elf still went on reasoning with diplomacy and tact—fit for a king but not for one who had been severely victimized! There was a guard about Thranduil— Thorin could see it! And that alone made him frustrated beyond belief.

Was Thranduil so naïve that he failed to understand what Thorin so desperately wanted him to see or was this out of some blind sense of gratitude? It would only take some idle gossips to form a misconception and if the rumours were fuelled enough, they would breed sly deceitful creatures who would not hesitate in upturning the king s Thorin had the _privilege_ of experiencing?

Suddenly, he got up to his feet eliciting a startle from the other. He had had enough.

“You fool!” He hissed, seeing Thranduil’s orbs grow bigger with bewilderment. “You love bringing trouble upon your head!”

He closed the distance between them with long strides and before Thranduil could even react, he clasped the other by his robes, tugging hard till Thranduil was on his knees. Once they were levelled, Thorin showed no hesitation when he grabbed Thranduil by his upper arm, his hold growing tighter along with the fear and worry as he scoffed, “They will look for us! They will look for _me_. They can’t touch you among your people but with me around, you can never e truly safe, don’t you know that?”

He trembled as rage took him over borne out of the desperation he felt. “They will want to kill me. And when your subjects find out what I had offered instead of food, they will want to have me dead as well! You intervene and you end up like me—rotting in a prison or hanging till dead! How daft must you be not to see this! I do not worry much about Mirkwood! I worry about YOU! What will I have to hold on to if something happens to you, you imprudent elf?! ”

Thranduil looked at Thorin truly dumfounded as the dwarf pulled him closer and to his knees while screaming at him all the while. “I don’t want any trouble! I am only trying to protect you!” Thranduil said trying to pull away from the grip although Thorin only increased the pressure and pulled him even closer their breath mingling. Thranduil could feel the heat emanating from Thorin’s body and it literally made him weak. “I cannot allow all that I have suffered be for naught! Don’t you understand that! It has to mean something, serve some purpose! I could not bear it otherwise.” With a violent jerk he managed to pull away from Thorin. “I care for nothing but your safety Thorin; I allowed Harrak and Dimo to violate me so brazenly and abuse me to keep them from killing you, I didn’t matter as long as it kept you safe…I would never allow any harm to befall you regardless of the repercussions of my actions…” Thranduil stopped for a moment tears stinging the back of his eyes and he felt tears begin to well within them.

“If you are truly unsafe here, unsafe with me, then you should leave.” Thranduil said sadness clear in his voice but ignored. “Re-supply and go to the Iron Hills, be with your cousin who can keep you safe…possibly even help you avenge Fili and reclaim your throne.” Thranduil looked at Thorin a cold feeling creeping into his heart as he spoke. “Disappear from my life if that is what you want.” Thranduil nearly choked on the words he spoke to Thorin, it pained him deeply that Thorin would leave and put his life in jeopardy again, it seemed nothing Thranduil did would keep this dwarf safe, everything he had suffered had been pointless after all.

Thranduil’s words were powerful and potent, stalling everything about Thorin, stalling Thorin’s mind, his heart and his barest ability to simply breathe. Thranduil’s words were poison, ruffling and rummaging whatever dirt he had accumulated in his mind, burying away the ghastly reality he desperately wanted to remain suppressed.

However now, with every word uttered from Thranduil’s mouth, Thorin felt the same burial ripped apart, exposing bit by bit of the horrific flashes of the past that whipped his brain and wrenched his heart with their ruthlessness.

He stared at the other, unable to bring a single syllable to his now frozen tongue. There was coldness in Thranduil’s tone. There was dejection in his eyes. He felt himself trembling. His knees felt weak, legs aching to buckle under the great pressure settling upon his chest, making his heart throb, squeezing it with death-like grip.

Desperately, he tried one last time. Once more to tell Thranduil that what he was thinking was wrong! That Thranduil’s endurance was what shaped Thorin’s future; that his forgiveness changed his way. He inhaled, trying to choke out a word—any word—that could tell Thranduil how much his actions had an impact on Thorin; that how much he gave Thorin strength...how much Thorin gave him love. But his throat acted against him. It parched and rasped. Words formed at the tip of his tongue but remained there, adamant and unmoving.

Thranduil’s eyes were still upon him and Thorin’s astonished gaze upon Thranduil. At last, his eyes twitched. The bewilderment and shock started ebbing away, a dismal acceptance gradually creeping in its place. His jaws which unbeknownst to him hung ajar started tightening as he closed his mouth. The quiver in his body came to an eventual halt. A stone cold strength settled in. Thranduil’s eyes reacted ever so slightly. The coldness flickered only for a moment while it seemed like the elf trying to convey something—an answer perhaps—one last time before it was too late, only for him to reject any further entertainment on that line of thought.

It was too late.

At that, Thorin’s resolve strengthened. He nodded out of the most formal and disengaged courtesy, one too perfect for a king.

“I shall be obliged if you could inform my cousin,” he spoke finally in the shell of a king.

Thranduil had given him his answer. And Thorin had given his.

 

* * *

 

“He is beginning to stir,” a voice declared. One too familiar yet detached like a ghost or a spirit...

Fili twitched ever so slightly as he came to consciousness, swallowing back a sharp pain the move caused. Is head felt heavy, his body felt weak and everything about him sounded so distant and hazed...like coming from the back of a watery veil.

“After days, you would expect him to.”

Days? He wondered in his perplexed mind. At first, the significance of it didn’t  later much however as the word registered more and more in his mind, he felt himself regaining his senses faster and faster, causing a fear to be ingrained further in his heart.

 _Days_? He had been unconscious for _days_?

Suddenly, everything came back to him—the plan, the escape, his uncle, the elf, the betrayal, Kili! His mind started spinning out of control. Panic set in, causing him to open his eyes and scramble up on his bed. He groaned immediately as a hot flash of pain tore him apart spreading from the left side of his chest to his entire body. Before he could make any further move, he felt somebody pushing him back on what felt like a crude form of bedding.

“No rush, lad. Not like you are going anywhere.”

He screamed in frustration, sheer agony making him unable to render any word just yet.

He fell back, panting heavily, knowing well enough his struggles were nothing compared to the strength of the dwarves pinning him down.

He was supposed to be dead and yet he was alive. Either it had to be Mahal’s greatest mercy or a brief interlude for something more horrible. He just hoped his efforts did not go in vain. He prayed for Thranduil and Thorin to be safe.

Dimo walked over to Fili, he hadn’t been restrained and he had been moved to a more comfortable room. There was talk for locking him in the dungeons but oddly enough Kili refused locking his injured brother in the dungeons, he insisted he be well taken care of regardless of his suspected treason.

“I wouldn’t move too much, the healer had a hell of a time patching you up and you wouldn’t want to re-open any wounds after all.” He said a somewhat sinister smiled crossing his features, after all it had been himself and Harrak who had caused most of his wounds.

 Harrak walked up to him next. “That was really stupid of you to allow the dwarf and elf to escape, you agreed with us that your uncle was unfit to rule and then you allow him to escape, you know he will go straight to his cousin! What do you think Lord Dain will do to the lot of us!?” He yelled angrily. “It’s not just us either, you are to blame just as much as the rest of us you miserable retch!” He grabbed Fili by his collar lifting him up slightly. “Well!? What do you plan on doing now!?”

Fili eyed both of the others with venom evident in his gaze. He heard the threat well enough and instead of intimidating him all it managed to do was infuriate him even further, drawing a scowl on his face.

He watched Harrak as he was being approached, following the dwarf’s steps till he was standing right next to him. Fili narrowed his eyes as Harrak crouched down next to him, startling soon after when Harrak raised his voice. He felt strong hands pulling him up roughly by his collar. He grimaced as a white hot pang of pain crushed his chest, making it throb and pulsate brutally. He started breathing rapidly trying to cope up with the agony. He would not let these bastards have the satisfaction of gaining greater power over him.

He breathed in and out, the rate gradually decreasing along with the throbbing pang. When the pain was stable enough, he finally chocked out, “he will have those killed who hurt his cousin.”

He noticed the rage rolling off from the other but he would not stop now. Instead of giving in as he had done in the past, he at last understood his place and it would never be alongside cowards like his so called advisors.

“He will have you killed,” Fili smirked, “and me as well. But unlike you, I accept my wrongs towards my own uncle and I accept my consequences. But I wonder,” He paused with a sardonic glint in his eyes, “With Dain Ironfoot breathing down your necks, what do _you_ plan to do, you _miserable retch_?”

For the first time in a long time Harrak was actually at a loss for words, he was hoping that he could get the stupid little prince to talk and say something that they could use to their advantage and possibly save their necks in the long run but he seems to have resided himself to his fate and that did not bode well for either Harrak or Dimo. Harrak turned to his accomplice. “What about Kili?” He asked quickly.

“I’ve got the kid all twisted up about his brother, he won’t be a problem. I don’t think he actually meant to hurt Fili here though; he was pretty shaken up about it, he had cause for alarm too with Thorin having escaped so I wouldn’t worry about him bothering us too much he’s got enough problems of his own right now.” Dimo said.

“I don’t think we can stay here much longer, this whole place is heading for ruin and I would rather not be around when Ironfoot comes knocking.” He said.

“Give up! Leave our homeland!” Harrak said appalled at the suggestion.

“I’m not inclined to suffer Dain’s hammer, we did our best to save this place from a mad King and we failed, it’s time we struck out on our own.” He looked at Fili. “You can stay here and rot for all I care; I hope you reach your execution with more honor than you had while alive.” He said leaving the room as Harrak reluctantly followed.

Fili stayed silent and watched them leave. His eyes were embezzling in a flame of rage he felt towards the disgusting filths he once sought out for help. He would burn in Dain’s revenge. He knew that. But he couldn’t let Harrak and Dimo escape. He had to think of a way.  They would have to burn with him.

 

* * *

 

Thranduil had done as promised and arranged for a Raven to be used to send a message to the Iron Hills, he had gathered some message supplied and was currently setting them up on Thorin’s desk, he had since gone to the stables to ensure his pony was ready for travel so Thranduil could avoid him for the time being. He noticed Thorin’s coat slung over the armchair and he paused looking at it a moment before walking over to it.

He touched it gently as if it would disintegrate if he handled it too roughly. He picked it up and hugged it to his chest. He desperately wished it was Thorin he was embracing.

 _That damn dwarf_! He thought angrily. _You made me fall in love with you! You made me weak, made me actually want you! But you hate me now, how could you do this to me!?_ Angry tears began to fall down his cheeks as they spotted to coat in his arms, it wasn’t fair, is this what Thorin had felt when he had rejected him in the forest, is so how did he ever survive?

“My lord Aldewin.”

At the sound of the addresser, Aldewin paused and turned towards the part of the vast corridor carrying an all too familiar voice.

“Ah Gelmir!” He greeted back, motioning for the other to approach him.

Having gained permission, Gelmir was visibly relieved and started walking up to his captain and long term friend. However, there was something of about Gelmir. His demeanour was not bearing its usual calmness; rather there was urgency in his steps and when he finally stood before Aldewin, the captain couldn’t help but raise a brow at the state Gelmir was in.

“What has got you in such a mess?” He asked in a concerned tone.

Gelmir was dishevelled. He seemed weary and no matter how much his posture allowed him to feign relaxation, his face was clearly reflecting the exhausted state he was in.

Gelmir paused a while, inhaling deeply. Soon, however, he decided not to stall any further and said clearly, “It is the king.”

At the very mention of Thranduil, Aldewin got alarmed.

“What about him?”

“He has been so demurred lately. He refuses to leave the dwarf’s chamber and I fear that Thorin Oakenshield will have a massive influence on him.”

“Influence is not bad, Gelmir.” Aldewin said passively, though in his heart, he felt the long term worry itching his heart.

“Not if it shows _such_ result,” warned Gelmir at which, Aldewin’s gaze became more alert.

He had noticed how different Thranduil behaved ever since their first encounter in the forest.  He had also not failed to notice his friend’s attitude when he returned from Erebor along _with_ Oakenshield. There was something different about Thranduil. There was weariness etched upon his face, true enough. Perhaps because of the long journey or the stress for his people. However what stood out most amidst all this was a gentility which Thranduil had whenever Thorin was around him.

 Despite whatever had transpired between the two over the years, Thranduil’s eyes were softer whenever he looked at Thorin. His face was brighter and he _glowed_. And for such an elf to be suddenly in a dismal state...it just didn’t make sense.

He sighed trying to relieve the little ache in his head which was beginning to form. He thought for a while, mentally debating if he should just barge in where his king _and_ closest friend was or if he should wait for Thranduil to approach him.

Soon he discarded the second option and made way for Thorin’s allotted chamber, Gelmir following him shortly after.

He was surprised to find the door to Thorin’s chamber wide open but what made his heart drop was the sight of Thranduil clenching a tattered coat to his chest, sneering at it as if it was the very owner himself while his eyes glistened with what could only be tears.

“Thranduil?” He called out softly.

Thranduil was lost deep in thought when another’s voice broke his musings and he dropped the coat and stared back at Aldewin, apparently he had left the door open and chided himself mentally for being so careless. He could only imagine what a strange sight it must have been to have been clutching the ragged coat of their dwarf guest. Under normal circumstances he would have brushed it off, but the eyes of his personal guard and another of the Royal guardsmen made him shift uncomfortably under the gaze.

Aldewin instantly noticed Thranduil’s unease so he spoke to alleviate his Kings discomfort. “Forgive the intrusion my lord.” He said walking up to him cautiously yet calm, he had noticed a change in Thranduil, he was more alert and guarded than normal and he did seem rather melancholy as of late. “Could you spare me a moment of your time?” He asked searching Thranduil’s face but the Elvin King refused to meet his gaze.

Thranduil hated it when Aldewin used the phrase ‘a moment of your time’ it basically meant he wanted to get him alone or in pleasant company to discuss things Thranduil usually felt better leaving alone. He had been in council all day and then spent another few hours dictating the distribution of rations so that they would be used properly and accordingly. He didn’t want to talk about anything at this point and time, although he also knew that he didn’t have much of a choice so he simply nodded and began walking to his own rooms, Gelmir and Aldewin following closely behind.

Once inside the room Aldewin instantly noticed the bed hadn’t been slept in, the food placed on the table had not been touched, and it seemed Thranduil was also wearing the same clothes he had worn yesterday. He sighed worry etching across his brow. “My Lord, you are going to run yourself ragged if you do not eat and sleep properly…I know the time you spent in Erebor must have been tiresome on your nerves but that is no reason to deprive yourself of the basic…” Aldewin stopped seeing the strangest of expressions sweep across Thranduil’s features, it was a mixed emotion and as quickly as it had come it had gone but Aldewin could tell that something was wrong, something he had said had caught Thranduil off guard and it seemed to have upset him and he forced a neutral mask to hide emotion which concerned Aldewin all the more. He looked to Gelmir who seemed to have noticed it too.

Thranduil was only half listening to what Aldewin was saying, he tended to over worry himself with Thranduil’s well being, but when he mentioned Erebor, a flash of memory of the assault he had endured swept through his mind although he tried to hide it quickly to keep his keen guard from asking too many questions he wasn’t ready to answer. He thought he would be able to handle this trauma better than he had been, but he was having trouble sleeping, nightmares plaguing his dreams and the reoccurrence of the dreams left him without much of an appetites well so he was currently throwing himself into his work trying to disregard everything else…strangely enough he was able to handle everything a little better when Thorin was around, true he still felt somewhat ashamed and he knew Thorin didn’t want him anymore but as long as he knew Thorin was safe he felt that it had all been worth it, that it had served some good purpose…but without Thorin it felt much more terrible and upsetting. He was trying to be strong, trying to be a good King but it was exhausting keeping up the pretense that everything was all right, because he himself was simply _not_ all right.

For all his days as a Royal Guardsmen, Gelmir had never thought of seeing his king in something other than his usual collected, distant state. Now that he had witnessed Thranduil stripped off from his mask, wearing his raw emotions on his sleeves, he couldn’t help suppress his astonishment at the entire scene.

The king was _hugging_ a coat—the _dwarf’s_ coat! He was _crying_ over it and that in itself was a major cause of worry for the red haired Silvan. He had _never_ seen Thranduil cry. No one had. Not for a dwarf! And yet, the tears sliding down his king’s cheeks were far too prominent to be ignored.

The elvenking stiffened immediately as he was made to break out of his ponderous state. Immediately, Gelmir saw a change morphing onto Thranduil’s face. The eyes which were still brimming with tears became cold in an instant as a mask placed itself upon his face. Thranduil again became the king Gelmir knew. Indifferent, distant.

Though not fully. For even if there was a cold wall placed between Thranduil and his raw emotions, Gelmir could still see disappointment reflecting off vibrant blue eyes, a sadness and a tinge of something which almost resembled hope.

He followed the other two into what was supposed to be the dwarf’s chamber, frowning immediately when he found how unused it was. Even the food was untouched! Aldewin noticed it as well and when he was vocal about it, Gelmir frowned, keeping his gaze still on the king’s face who as too preoccupied in averting his attention away from his guardsmen.

His frown deepened when the very mention of Erebor caused Thranduil’s mask to slip for just a moment when his eyes quivered with an unknown emotion. Before Gelmir could analyze, the mask was again placed back on Thranduil who was now glowering at Aldewin.  No, not glowering. It seemed like he was enforcing himself to keep his glare in place, which was now wavering frequently.

“My king,” he finally ventured, steadying himself when Thranduil’s attention immediately snapped onto him. “Forgive me for it is none of my business but is there something that troubles you?”

He cast a quick glance at Aldewin and when the captain didn’t seem offended by his intrusion, he sighed, letting Aldewin take over. He could only extend his limit so much.

“You need not keep it to yourself, Thranduil.” Aldewin prodded with a soothing tone, hoping that it could calm Thranduil enough for him to open up. “Suppression is only added burden. We speak to you as your friends. Trust us.”

Thranduil shook his head at the statement, It wasn’t that he didn’t trust them, he held them both in high regard and while he had known Aldewin much longer than Gelmir the guard had proven himself many time to be a good friend to Aldewin and himself…they were only trying to help and Thranduil understood that, he wanted to open up to them because if not them, then who would he talk to.

“Do I seem loathsome to either of you?” He said seeing surprise cross Aldewin’s features; he asked although he knew what the answer would be. “I feel loathsome, dishonoured, and shamed…so yes there are a few things that are troubling me but unless you have a remedy for how I _feel_ then I want to be left alone.” Thranduil’s voice was cold and held evident anger.

Aldewin glanced and Gelmir who seemed surprised at Thranduil’s new behaviour, but Aldewin wasn’t. Thranduil was trying to leave no room for argument but the more his King spoke the more Aldewin wanted to help. “Tell me why.” He said simply. “If you feel this way, for whatever reason, allow me to show you how it isn’t true.” He said gently, even if Thranduil was angry there was no reason for Aldewin to do the same he would stay calm no matter the circumstances.

“You don’t understand…I don’t want you to understand!” Thranduil buried his face in his hands. “You know I blame myself for everything that went wrong in my Kingdom, I am its king. It is my duty to protect and serve and I failed…but I never should have gone to Erebor, it’s not enough that I ruin my own people, must I ruin others? Am I not the source of sorrow?” Thranduil asked looking into Aldewin’s eyes not bothering to wipe away the tears that fell freely from his eyes.

Gelmir felt his jaw wanting to drop at the suddenness of the question that was thrown at them. However, before any one of them could even offer Thranduil any comfort, Thranduil brutally cut off any words spoken with a tone as cold as ice and a demeanour to match the same. Aldewin however did not seem shaken by the new development. It was as if he had been a witness to such erratic behaviour displayed by the elvenking and he prodded on, unfazed.

It was what followed next which truly baffled the warrior. Without any warning, Thranduil’s face twisted before he buried them in his hands. As he spoke, his voice no longer bore its usual cold edge. It cracked like the king’s indifferent mask, grief and despair bleeding from it as Thranduil spoke what made little sense.

Gelmir shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Aldewin once. His friend was extremely concerned by Thranduil’s incoherent speech. Both inhaled sharply when Thranduil finally looked up, eyes glistening with tears which fell down his cheeks in an unrestrained manner. The king’s eyes were locked with those of Aldewin, peering into them while he searched for something—perhaps an assurance or validation of some kind.

Gelmir heard Aldewin sigh softly as he cautiously began approaching Thranduil. The elvenking was still tense and still clutching the coat as if it was dear life.

“You did not ruin anything,” Aldewin reasoned in a soft voice. “You saved our lives! You put forward our welfare before yours and you saved so many from Death’s cold grip. You saved us from dragon fire not once but so many times! You have kept our realm safe from spiders and darkness of this forest! You have even saved Oakenshield from certain death!”

He slowly held Thranduil by his arms and steadied him. Gelmir was relieved to see the other not struggling or fending Aldewin off. He needed support and he needed one from a very good friend. Gelmir sighed when Thranduil allowed Aldewin’s approach. There was sadness still marring his face but there was something else also softening his eyes, washing away the grief at a slow but sure pace.

“You are no cause of sorrow, my friend. You are a true king,” Aldewin went on, “You have always served and protected and you will continue to do so. You haven’t failed yet. There is still time to amend what needs be amended. Let us help you.”

Thranduil leaned into Aldewin pleased when his faithful and ever supporting friend held him. “I suppose it is selfish if I think the cost was too high, to save my people, to save Thorin…” Thranduil walked away from both of his guards wanting to be left alone.

Aldewin sighed turning to Gelmir. “Do me a favor and see what King Thorin is up to, I’m curious to know why Thranduil would need to save him at all, but keep this to yourself.” Aldewin said as Gelmir left and Aldewin went back to Thranduil who was now in his study.

You are acting as if you are all alone in the world, the pressure would not be so great if you simply accepted others assistance…but I know you well enough and your habits. There is nothing you need to prove to anyone by shouldering this burden alone.” Aldewin said sympathetically.

“Time heals all wounds is that it? Certainly didn’t heal Thorin’s, he was so angry with me, but rather adamant in exactly what he wanted from me. We had not the resources of the treasure to pay for the items we needed to survive, he knew that and exploited me properly, and just when things between us would calm down something would always go wrong…and now…he can’t even stand to be near me.” Thranduil said looking at the coat and dropping it to the floor carelessly. “Sadly I understand that.”

All the while Thranduil spoke, Aldewin’s gaze never left his dearest friend. He could clearly see stress on Thranduil’s face but it was what he tried to hide which gained Aldewin’s attention. There was evasiveness in Thranduil’s behaviour which never bode well and only confirmed Aldewin’s suspicion. Something must’ve taken place in Erebor for the dynamics of the two kings to shift so abruptly. Once Thranduil would do whatever it took to put some distance between Thorin and himself. Now, the same distance was undesirable.

At the very mention of exploitation, Aldewin became extremely alert.

“Exploit?” He frowned in deep concern and held Thranduil by his shoulder in a firm grip, making the elvenking look right at him. The action promptly inflicted a flinch in his friend just as something more than caution burst in his eyes.

Aldewin became bewildered at the unusualness of such a reaction. He clearly had never expected it coming from someone who he had known all his life.

“What has he done?” he asked, his voice becoming grit as coldness began crawling into his heart. He looked down at the coat when his feet accidentally touched it. When he looked back again, fear struck him with a sharp pang after he was greeted by the sight of Thranduil’ face becoming ghastly and pallid.

“What happened in Erebor?” He asked more fervently, fear turning into latent rage. “Thranduil, for goodness’ sake tell me if you consider me a friend!”

Thranduil removed Aldewin’s hands but did so gently so not to alarm the other further. “It was a long time ago…” Thranduil swallowed thickly. “I…I took advantage of him once, I acted rashly and made a mistake with him.” Thranduil scoffed a little. “He actually said he loved me, that’s why I distanced myself from him so much, but they were the only ones who could help us so I had no choice but to go to him…he remembered all too well of my rejection and used our desperation to try and influence my feelings for him.”

“He didn’t hurt me, he has a short fuse but he never hurt me, not really…but others didn’t take kindly to me though, they thought Thorin’s decision to help unwise since we really had nothing to give in return, I can’t say I would have reacted differently. But he didn’t want to let me leave, tensions rose in his council…they would have killed him and me…I was trying to keep him safe but I think I just caused more problems.” Thranduil looked at Aldewin his friend’s eyes scanning his every move.

 Aldewin’s attention directed to Thranduil squirming away from him which made his frown to deepen and worry to increase. He looked back up again, his sharp eyes locked with Thranduil’s averting ones, narrowing whenever traces of nervousness spilt from them.

His heart quickened at what he heard next.

“Love you?” he repeated, raising a brow in reflex. However, the other brow arose in unison with his eyes the more Thranduil spoke. It was simply not a case of strained relations any more. It went beyond trivial tension and was so unstable that it could explode in any moment.

“Oh my dear lord!” he exclaimed completely out of his breath. “And you kept something like that—are you a novice or are you a fool?”

He couldn’t keep his temper in check. It startled Thranduil but Aldewin was stunned in the most negative way to maintain his composure at that very moment.

Thranduil did not return because of some prearrangement! He escaped! He escaped and brought Thorin along _with_ him to Mirkwood! They would be sought for; _Thorin_ would be sought for and the dwarves of the Lonely Mountain would guess right off hand where Thorin would be hidden.

There would be carnage. There would be war.

He felt his mind spinning with various thoughts, one more dangerous than the other. Fear gripped his heart tightly, making it hammer and pound wildly against his chest while blood seemed to drain away from his entire being.

Mirkwood could not last another war. They had incurred great damage in the last battle. The Woodland elves were far too weak and would be drastically unmatched by the stronger and more nourished enemy.

“You will be in grave danger if you let him stay,” Aldewin voiced. It was selfish to shun one for another, he knew it well. However, their present circumstances left him with no other plausible solution. The dwarves would be more threatened by Thorin’s return as their king than Thranduil for the time being.

“He cannot stay,” he declared settling his gaze with the other. At that, Thranduil’s eyes became more pensive and writhed in agony, making Aldewin to falter on his words and tip his head in confusion.

He took half a step, jolting suddenly when he felt something thick pooling at his feet. He looked down, frowning when it turned out to be Thorin’s coat. All of a sudden, his face slackened as something flashed in his mind.

_Could it be?_

He ran what he thought over and over again in his head and when each time his conclusion strengthened more than before, Aldewin found his eyes growing wide with extreme shock as his heart sunk and leapt erratically at the revelation he just made.

He quickly looked up at his friend who had silent pleads written in his face. Blue eyes were intently fixed upon Aldewin, shining bright with something the captain had never hoped to see in Thranduil ever again. He almost mentally cussed himself for not being able to see it sooner! The way Thranduil was reluctant about keeping Thorin away from his sight, the light he had in his eyes, the glow rendered to his face, everything— _everything_ — pointed to one simple certainty.

“You are in love!”

“I didn’t plan for any of this to happen! If you think me such a fool then please tell me what I was to do, simply let him die? Would that be an appropriate course of action!” Thranduil screamed right back. “Leaving him behind was not an option I had sacrificed too much already…I needed it to mean something; I couldn’t allow it to all be for naught…his life was more important to me…” Thranduil trailed off a little walking further away from Aldewin.

“It doesn’t matter anymore, even if I do love him…he refuses me, and after baring witness to my own shame…I cannot blame him for that…” Thranduil could feel a tear trailing down his cheek cursing his weakness in allowing himself to be seen in such a pathetic state. With his Kingdom in jeopardy the lives of his people wavering, Thranduil couldn’t seem to care about anything but Thorin…and he hated himself for it.

Aldewin was startled and quite shaken at the sudden burst of temper he had had rare chances of witnessing. He was about to reach out. However at what he heard next, Aldewin felt his entire body freezing in place, draining away his life when the full implication that Thranduil made crashed against him.

“Your shame?” His throat parched, words rasped and chocked as they struggled to come out. His chest felt so tight and aching, as if it was being gripped by a cold hand with unrelenting strength.

It couldn’t be. It was not even remotely possible, he told himself. Thranduil couldn’t possibly mean what he said. However Thranduil’s demeanour spoke otherwise and when his tears started spilling from his eyes, Aldewin’s fears quickly came true.

Slowly, his shock ebbed away. Fire burned in his eyes, growing wilder with every moment, spreading rage all over his body. He spoke nothing but he knew what his priorities were after ensuring Thranduil’s wellbeing. The dwarves dared to humiliate his friend, his king! He would ensure their gruesome fate.

* * *

 

Puffs of breath escaped Gelmir. The sound of his steps filled the vast corridors, gaining many suspicious stares from others who did their best to get out of Gelmir’s way as the guardsman showed no sign of slowing down.

His hair was tussled and dishevelled, his face aghast and pale earning him curious attentions from those who he passed. However, he had no time to brace proprieties. He had no desire to offer others explanation. He rushed with one thing burning in his mind: he had to inform the king and his captain.

Doors to the study burst open, disrupting the silence so abruptly that it made both Aldewin and Thranduil to snap their attention at Gelmir.

Courtesy and manners temporarily forgotten, Gelmir panted wildly trying to catch his much needed breath. When he did, he shouted out which made others freeze in horror.

“My lords, Thorin Oakenshield is gone!”

Thranduil disregarded Aldewin’s question almost completely as he turned away, he chided himself slightly for speaking so freely in front of him. He could handle this much easier if no one knew, Thorin knew and the pain of that alone was almost unbearable.

Suddenly Gelmir abruptly entered the study, he was obviously distressed yet at the news Thranduil could understand why, Thorin was gone. Thranduil felt his chest seize and his heart drop into the pit of his stomach and his thoughts grew incoherent and wild. What is that blasted dwarf thinking! If he had begun his travel to the iron hills he should have waited for Thranduil to arrange a contingent of guards, or at least have been patient enough for the raven messenger to be dispatched! Mirkwood was dangerous, and the vast fields he would need to travel were even more perilous, the danger he faced would only mount the farther he went and if he was still being hunted…Thranduil shook his head deciding that he had to catch up to him.

“Ready my horse.” He said going back to his bedroom grabbing his riding cloak but not bothering the change into more appropriate attire, Aldewin tried to stop him mid-stride although Thranduil quickly swung his arm and shoved Aldewin hard. “Do not try and stop me…you have no right.” Thranduil said his tone low and dangerous. He was a slightly surprised that he would actually lash out at Aldewin something he couldn’t recall ever doing in his entire life, a testament to his feelings toward Thorin is nothing else was.

Aldewin frowned at the news. He had not expected for Oakenshield to linger for much longer. However he had expected him to wait till some help was arranged. When he left without so much of a word—not even informing Thranduil, whom he supposedly loved—he grew extremely suspicious of the dwarf’s involvement.

He cast a glance at his friend, only to have his frown deepened. Thranduil was distraught. He was restless and all of a sudden, he grew extremely pale as if he had heard of the most terrifying of all news. He didn’t know why but such a reaction coming from Thranduil made his heart throb faintly. It was understandable that Thranduil would react in such a manner. He was in love. So then why did it make Aldewn feel a little uncomfortable?

He didn’t get to ponder on his thoughts when Thranduil started shaking away the shock filling his head. There was a light in his friend’s eyes—a fire rekindled which he had not seen ever since the bereavement of his wife or since...the night that would belong to them.

He practically jumped at Thranduil’s brazen decision.

“Ready your horse? You can’t—” He started following Thranduil, eventually over taking him while he blocked his path. Thranduil’s raging eyes fell upon him making Aldewin falter only briefly before he stared back at the other with unparalleled determination. He couldn’t put Thranduil in any more danger. Not for a dwarf who had been the source of all such troubles.  He again tried reasoning but this time, Thranduil cut him off even before he could get any word out of his mouth. There was acid in his tone and Aldewin could feel the underlying desperation which made his chest ache once more. He gasped when he was shoved aside roughly and stared ahead for a few moments.  

There was wistfulness in his gaze however, there was understanding as well. Thranduil was so madly in love and so dangerously as well. So much in fact that he was ready to put himself in jeopardy even after everything he had tolerated _just_ for the sake of _one_ dwarf.

He sighed, forming a decision. If Thranduil found happiness in Thorin, then Aldewin truly had no right to dictate what should and shouldn’t be done when it came to him.

Gelmir was still standing close by, waiting for Aldewin’s instructions. Taking one more deep breath, Aldewin faced him.

“Gelmir,” he said, “Prepare a flank while I ensure e doesn’t get himself killed.”

With that, he headed for the stables. If Thranduil put his heart in Thorin’s hand, then so be it. Aldewin would ensure his protection extended to Thorin as well.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Well...it's a brutal truth but none of the Hobbit and its characters are ours!
> 
> AN: Guys, I will not keep you with my rants. Lemme make it quick: thank you everyone who have reviewed! We are seeing the statistics and we are THRILLED!   
> Now. Chapter 16- coming right up!

Hours and days of relentless travel with little to no rest finally affected Thorin. Navigating through the thick forest was not easy however, Thorin somehow managed to get to its outskirts. The darkness was still lingering. However now, it didn’t seem much potent. Or perhaps Thorin had too much in his mind to be affected by its ghastly illusions. Though deep within, he knew how unlikely it was! Last time, he had been rescued by Thranduil...he had much on his mind then as well. And yet the forest got to him. Now that it didn’t, Thorin couldn’t help but feel something ominous building within his heart.

He breathed heavily while his legs grew heavier. Each step began feeling like a struggle, like he was walking with stones tied to his feet. His body felt weak and malnourished. He truly regretted leaving on a whim. He had not even a morsel of food which he sorely craved at the moment.

He grit his teeth almost immediately after. No, he couldn’t stay. Thranduil made it clear he had no wish of tolerating him any further.

He couldn’t blame Thranduil. The elf had suffered enough ad ebverything which had happened to him was triggered by none other than Thorin himself. He wanted the elf humiliated, forced, dominated. And because of his greed, Thranduil had to live with a past he would never be able to forget.  And when the elf needed him, he pushed Thranduil away. He couldn’t blame if Thranduil had grown tired of him. He couldn’t blame if Thranduil had enough of him. Thorin deserved this. And so, Thorin _had_ to leave.

Finally, Thorin dropped unceremoniously on the ground. His feet refused to carry him any further. His body was so sore and so weak. Thorin needed rest. He needed to lie down.

Panting heavily, he managed to pick himself up and settle under a tree. Once he did, he sighed in relief when his sore muscles stretched against the forest floor. His eye lids became heavy and before he knew it, he drifted off to sleep.

His eyes flew open apparently after moments when sound of hooves entered his ears. Alertness seized him as did panic which clenched his heart tight. Quickly, Thorin picked himself up from the ground and scampered behind a wide trunk. He narrowed his eyes, eyes focused to the direction of the sound. His hand subconsciously settled on the hilt of a sword he had managed to _acquire_ from a startled elf.

His heart pounded hard, sweat accumulated on his brow as the sound came closer. Thorin’s whole body became tensed and highly alarmed, ready to pounce on any threat. He felt his heart stopping altogether when he noticed a very familiar form appearing out of the trees.

He tried to hide himself but it was too late. Sharp eyes had already spotted him and the person in question was approaching him fast. Before he knew it, Thorin felt his face turning to his left, a sharp stinging sensation coming off from his cheek following an equally sharp sound of a hand hitting his face.

“Why?” He growled, glaring up at the other but as he met those blue orbs, burning with a bright flame, Thorin felt his strength leaving him then and there.

Thranduil could hear nothing, his heart beating so hard leaving a dull throbbing in his ears. He made his way down the corridors and to the stables in record time, Aldewin followed close behind, if Thranduil wasn’t in such a rush he would have objected being followed but he had not the time to argue.

Once at the stables he opted for a mare, his elk was not appropriate for traveling in the thick forest, and mares tended to be smaller so they would be able to travel faster, and there was no telling how long Thorin had been gone or how far he had managed to go…regardless there would be some catching up to do. Once outside the palace Thranduil surveyed his surroundings carefully, he had been trained in tracking techniques but is senses for the moment seemed overwhelmed and he wasn’t sure which way he should go, if he chose wrong he might never find Thorin.

Aldewin noticed the slight hesitation in Thranduil once outside, he urged his own horse closer to stand beside his king. “Let me help you.” He said simply as after a moment picked up the trail so they would have a general idea where Thorin was heading. “Come, let us find Thorin.” He said which seemed to sooth Thranduil somewhat that he was committed to helping him in this task, nor was he angry from his actions earlier.

The two rode fast and hard for what felt like hours, they had to keep stopping when the trail died or direction changed so it was taking longer than expected. In all honesty Thranduil had thought that Thorin would not have been able to go very far, Thorin had no natural immunities against the enchantment so the only explanation was the barrier was destabilized by Thranduil’s absence and his own weakness…which meant that Thorin might even be able to clear the forest, and the thought sent a wave of panic through his entire being.

 As they rode Thranduil picked up on the rustling of leaves which were t loud to be an animal or bird so he quickly dismounted and went in search of the source, at first he saw nothing but he could not mistake the form that tried to hide away. A sense of relief washed over Thranduil although it quickly swelled into anger as he walked up to Thorin and before he realized it he had slapped him hard across the face.

“Why? You dare ask me why!?” Thranduil screamed at him. “Have you completely lost your mind, what were you thinking leaving so abruptly and without even telling someone, telling me! Do you have idea what I have been going through! If you had been attacked or injured…if something had happened to you…”  Thranduil trailed off a little and he closed his eyes.

  _Remember Thranduil, he does not feel the same. You must respect his decision_ , a little voice inside Thranduil’s head reminded him.

He opened his eyes and looked at Thorin intently. “You should have told someone and I could have arranged an entourage…you could have at least waited long enough or the raven to return with news.” Thranduil said trying to keep his emotions under control he was so angry and happy it was hard to keep his emotions in check.

When the bewilderment gradually faded away, Thorin flinched while Thranduil practically screamed in his ears. Had he not seen for himself, Thorin would never believe that this very being—swelling with anger, comparable to Smaug himself—him would be capable of kindness and gentility. He didn’t know why it excited him. Rather, he knew it all too well. It was hope that Thranduil still cared and that he still wanted him.

He barely noticed another form standing beside Thranduil. His attention was affixed on only one.Thorin’s cheeks warmed and adoration swam in his eyes as he kept on gazing at the other, unable to speak anything at that very moment. Each word that Thranduil spoke had such passion that it made Thorin’s heart to race wilder than before till all there was in it was a wave of euphoria, crashing against him repeatedly.

 His trance broke when Thranduil suddenly stopped. He quickly shut his eyes, trying to bring about a restrain. Then he stared at Thorin once more. The fire was still there behind Thranduil’s eyes, burning but not raging like it had been a moment before. Thorin’s heart suddenly skipped a beat.

“Why did you stop? What were you going to say, Thranduil?” He pressed on, noticing a shift in Thranduil’s demeanour as if he had breached a very uncomfortable subject. But he had to know. “I did not wish to bring further trouble upon you. I wanted to spare you from further concerns!” His voice began rising with latent frustration and a desperate need of words that his ears craved to hear. “If something happened to me, then _what?”_

It didn’t matter to him about anything else in that moment. It didn’t matter to him that Thranduil _asked_ him to leave. All he wanted was an assurance. He had to know if Thranduil still cared; if Thorin was still worthy of his love.

Thranduil hadn’t expected this reaction or question and it confused him making him take pause. Thorin’s eyes held a glimmer of love and adoration that Thranduil had remembered from their brief moments together, he looked at him like this only a few times and not once since they had left Erebor so why now? Thranduil shook his head at Thorin as tears stung the back of his eyes, it wasn’t fair! It wasn’t all right to confuse him further by giving him the hope that anything could transpire between them, there was no hope for that and implementing otherwise was cruel.

“Don’t look at me like that…don’t ask when you know the answer, forcing me to say it is simply spiteful knowing that you will not reciprocate my feelings.” Thranduil said praying this dwarf would simply grant him the smallest bit of pity and spare him the pain.

 Aldewin watched the scene from a few meters away his mind screamed at him to intervene and comfort Thranduil, take this pain away and ease his suffering but something else held him back telling him to wait, to let this scene between them play out. The words his King spoke to him earlier about ‘shame’ still concerned Aldewin greatly, and he wasn’t sure what this dwarf could offer his King…however, he knew love when he saw it, and he knew how Thranduil behaved and reacted when he was in love and whether or not he said it Thranduil was in love with this dwarf. So Aldewin would watch for the moment and not intervene, if Thorin felt nothing for Thranduil let him say it now and spare his King further pain.

Thorin felt his chest being stabbed over and over again at the shattered look on Thranduil’s face. Then when he spoke in a hopeless voice, Thorin could no longer keep his strained composure. Within a blink of an eye, he lunged at Thranduil, clenched his robes, pulled him down and when Thranduil began protesting, Thorin presses his lips over Thranduil’s, kissing him deeply and hungrily. He felt Thranduil’s body tensing immediately at teh suddenness of such contact but Thorin refused to let him go so easily. He snaked his arms around Thranduil and pulled him. He felt Thranduil slowly relaxing while his breathing evened. And when he felt the tip of a cool tongue gently starting to caress his own, Thorin felt a skip in his heartbeat, excitement and thrill washing him over as probed further in Thranduil’s mouth.

When he finally pulled apart, he cupped Thranduil’s cheeks and gazing intently, he chided lightly, “You thought my feelings ceased for you?”He inhaled partly out of regret for ever allowing Thranduil to entertain such thoughts. “I could never have my feelings towards you changed, Thranduil. I realize I have made many mistakes in my life and alienating you was one of the gravest one. But I love you. I will continue loving you no matter what shall be my fate.”

He was startled by another voice he had not much cared up until that point. Instantly, his eyes settled on the other elf who was addressing his king. Thorin’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t know why but something wrenched inside his chest as once more feelings of possessiveness welled up within him.

His hold on Thranduil tightened. His glare was sharp and affixed on the dark haired elf. The elf noticed Thorin looking at him and measured him up, without even stopping or feeling threatened.

“My king, night will soon fall upon us.” He said and Thorin hated how Thranduil shifted his entire attention towards him. “We should seek shelter.”

Thranduil was temporarily shocked when Thorin lunged for him and when their lips me the urge to protect himself was too great and it made him protest although when Thorin showed no signs of relenting weakness crept of him and he gave into the kiss, in that moment Thranduil would have allowed Thorin to do anything he wished as long as he continued this blissful kiss. So full of passion and hunger that it made Thranduil weak in the knees as he fell unto them as was consumed by this feeling, it was a sweet and passionate kiss and had Thorin not pulled away it would have never stopped.

He was fearful that Thorin had kissed him as a way of good-bye as he held his breath…but the words that left his mouth washed over him like a warm breeze. He loved him still, after everything he still loved him? Thranduil felt like this was a dream and he would have spoken but Aldewin broke his thoughts. He felt Thorin’s arms encircle him tighter when his guard approached but he disregarded it for the moment.

“Your dwelling is near is it not?” Thranduil asked, while Aldewin resided in the palace mostly he still had his own dwelling and Thranduil had only been once so he was unsure, it would be more appropriate to stay there for the night the foul creatures would be awakening soon and it wasn’t safe.

Aldewin’s gaze only flickered towards Thranduil once before settling back on Thorin with increasing intensity. The dwarf stared back and not in the most timid ways. It seemed that Thorin almost _challenged_ him, _dared_ him to cross the finest of lines that hid something behind it. Aldewin did not know what. Thranduil put his trust in the dwarf; he put his heart in Thorin’s palms. But Aldewin couldn’t shake off a strange feeling building within him which kept him from trusting the dwarf fully. He had an ominous feeling that somehow Thorin had a hand in all of this—directly or indirectly.

He was brought back to his attention when addressed by the other elf.

“It is,” he confirmed, disregarding the dwarf when he felt waves of anger rolling off from Thorin. “We shall reach by evening if we start now.”

“It is not necessary,” Thorin protested in a low voice, almost hiding a growl. “I made my way out of the woods not to be taken back into it.”

In an instant, Aldewin brought Thorin under his stern vision, making the dwarf scowl at him as he said, “You are grossly ill-equipped and in dire need of rest and a plan. Please, follow me.”

He waited with an unwavering gaze. Thorin seemed extremely displeased about the very notion of Aldewin’s intervention causing the latter to increase his suspicion even more. However with Thranduil’s agreement, slowly Thorin gave in— mostly for lack of any other choice. His hands released Thranduil with extreme unwillingness and when Thranduil stood up it was evident in Thorin’s body that he did whatever he could not to act out and stop Thranduil from taking any step.

With that he led the way, his ears sharp and alerted while he took in each and every movement made by the dwarf.

He didn’t know about Thranduil but having Thorin in front f him for some period of time would provide him enough to assess the extent of Thorin’s involvement—if any—as also the events which had occurred in Erebor. If he found anything that would indicate Thorin to be the source of Thranduil’s misery, then he would not hesitate in delivering Thorin to his ultimate fate. He would make sure of that. 

Thranduil and Aldewin both lead the horses on foot but Thranduil could easily see how worn and tired Thorin was, which made him stop. “Do you wish to ride? I don’t believe it is much further can you continue?” Thranduil asked and Thorin looked as if he was going to concede but when he spared a glance at Aldewin he declined saying he was fine.

Thranduil frowned and looked at Aldewin who quickly turned his attention onward disregarding the questioning stare. Thranduil hadn’t noticed until now how tense Alewin was, he was normally very calm and composed never allowing his neutral mask to fault even for the briefest of moments, but he seemed apprehensive ever since they left the palace and he was more questioning than usual as well. He also knew their previous conversation had not been forgotten he would have to speak with him later to avoid misunderstandings in the future.

The rest of the journey was spent in silence although during the time Thranduil did reach out and gasp Thorin’s hand gently and refused to let go, he wanted to hold him desperately but it could wait a few more moments, their safety was a priority at the moment. Once they reached Aldewin’s home they stepped inside while Aldewin went about lighting candles. Although it had been months since he last had come home the little cottage looked well kept and well stocked. Aldewin went to the hearth and began to build a fire the chill of night coming on fast as the sun set.

Thorin resisted heaving a sigh in relief when Thranduil spoke the very words he wished to hear. Gratefully, he glanced upwards and was on the verge of consenting. However, something—a strong feeling, an intuition perhaps— made him to look ahead where he was not disappointed in finding how right his intuition was.

Aldewin was sharply looking at him. The elf did not bear any friendly approach towards Thorin, that much he had felt early on but it seemed that the more he leant towards Thranduil’s favour, more hostile the other elf grew. Aldewin narrowed his gaze, daring Thorin to even make an unprecedented move. Angry vibes rolled off from him. Thorin could taste it. He knew the sensation all too well. A sense of possession or perhaps...jealousy?

As a response to Aldewin’s dare, he steeled his own gaze and shook his head at Thranduil’s offer. He didn’t miss the confusion flashing in Thranduil’s face, nor did he miss the timely movement by which Aldewin _apparently_ provided them privacy. Thorin had a guess as to why Aldewin might behave the way he did. Yet he found himself grasping mentally for other options which could explain this non-subtle behaviour. Though, the more he tried, the stronger his original suspicion became. His attention upon Aldewin was broken when a gentle hand curled over his own, squeezing it firmly at which Thorin laid a glance on the one beside him.

Thranduil had a look on his face—odd but not uncommon as Thorin had had the privilege of witnessing it on their last days of Erebor. There was affection lacing Thranduil’s face and a strong assurance which warmed and soothed him greatly.

He entwined his own fingers along with Thranduil’s and squeezed back at which Thranduil’s eyes danced with a flicker of something that did more than just speed Thorin’s heart beat.

Their moment came to a rude pause when Aldewin declared that they had reached. 

* * *

 

As soon as Aldewin had left, Thorin swivelled on his heels and pulled Thranduil down so that they were at eye level. His gaze was burning with those same emotions he felt whenever he saw someone else advancing towards Thranduil. Giving the other no time, he asked concealing a little trace of his intense suspicion, “Why bring me here when you know how much I’d be welcomed?”

He noted Thranduil’s surprise at the abruptness of his question. Certainly Thranduil expected to hear anything but that which Thorin spoke but somehow knowing that the elf needed no further explanation, he pressed on, “I have seen how he looks at you and you have seen how he looks at _me_. I fail to see how this might help either of us.”

Thranduil blinked a few times Thorin’s words confusing him a little until he finally shook his head. Aldewin’s behavior was a little unusual even to Thranduil, his guard was usually so good at hiding his emotions but he seemed to not even care at the moment allowing his displeasure of the situation to freely show…it seemed to be a mix of different emotion’s that he simply couldn’t contain. Regardless though, Thranduil knew that even if Aldewin was reluctant he would not allow any harm to befall him or Throin, it may be unwelcoming but they were safe.

 “It’s not like that, he’s protective of me but that is his duty…he does not particularly like the events surrounding our escape from Erebor, he is only concerned for my well being. He is not so forgiving when I am placed in any type of danger.” Thranduil said although not blaming Thorin for those events, although that in no way meant Aldewin didn’t. “I promise we are safe here, it is just for the night anyway.”

Aldewin glanced at Throin and Thranduil who stood right outside his doorway speaking softly to one another, he saw the dwarf glance his way but it made him bristle as he narrowed his eyes at him. All these troubled that Mirkwood was facing was a result of Thorin being here in the first place, he had halfway hoped that they would not find the blasted dwarf. Aldewin could easily see how much Thranduil had fallen for him but the situation that surrounded his blind love for Thorin simply seemed more like coercion than acceptance, and it left Aldewin with this need to pull Thranduil away from Thorin to protect him…and still, Thranduil had spoken earlier of ‘shame’ and that Thorin no longer wanted him because of this and whatever happened it sent Thranduil into a depression and then after everything the dwarf left, just left without a word…it was inconsiderate and wrong, Thranduil simply deserved better.

Thorin became extremely agitated at Thranduil’s obliviousness. It was beyond his comprehension that anyone—the wise and cunning Elvenking nonetheless— could be so dense and so blind in trust not to see that which lay in plain sight! The burn in his heart only worsened when Thranduil brought up the dark days in Erebor, making Thorin wince and scowl involuntarily as his chest was stabbed repeatedly at the wound which never truly healed.

“Well being?” Thorin said tightly gripping Thranduil’s upper arms, practically hissing with fury and a stinging betrayal. “Then how do you expect him to extend his help to whoever who is remotely _related_ to Erebor, where you were _put_ into danger? How do you expect him to take kindly to my presence when it very well threatens your safety?”

The more he spoke, the more excited he became. His eyes had a feral light in them—the same he had whenever anyone would dare glance at Thranduil, be it his own blood or subject. His grip became tighter without him even realizing it and whatever traces of discomfort Thranduil had on his face went unnoticed.

“You do not see, do you? You stay so blind. Or do you _choose_ your blindness? Is that it?” he sounded more and more desperate, an inward panic building and welling up inside. An unknown fear of Thranduil being taken away, snatched away from Thorin’s arms and it was that fear which projected itself as anger as Thorin shivered in excitement.

Thranduil’s face lost its composure. His eyes widened, orbs contracting to tiny dots which trembled and flashed as something snapped within him. His lips moved, whispering words which did not reach Thorin’s own panicked state of mind. Suddenly, he felt a force dragging him back, crashing him against a solid wooden wall. Thorin winced in pain but before he could even realize, he felt something retraining him by his throat, which only choked him more as he struggled and thrashed to break free.

At that moment, the red hue of fright that hid his rationalism faded away, clearing his vision and Tit was then that Thorin looked at the source of his discomfort. Aldewin.

He grunted and struggled more but froze immediately when his eyes landed upon Thranduil who was sitting there on the ground—frozen and pallid. That was more than enough for guilt to flood Thorin. It was more than enough for him to want to slap himself senseless. He had blamed Thranduil. He had hurt him in his blind and insensible jealousy!

“Forgive me,” He pleaded under his breath, “Thranduil, no. Forgive me. Please forgive me.”

Aldewin watched the two closely and listened intently to every word his King and the dwarf spoke, the dwarf wasn’t completely wrong in finding Aldewin somewhat threatening, while the dwarf’s jealously was slightly misplaced he wasn’t entirely mistaken. Thranduil and Aldewin’s history together was vast and their feeling for one another complicated, they didn’t speak of their affection for one another often but the feelings ran deep within them both and that was something Thorin could never hope to replace. Aldewin knew this and he knew much about Thranduil…so his jealousy was warranted, but somewhat petty in Aldewin’s eyes.

The tension on Thorin’s voice grew more, there was anger in his voice, but before Aldewin had a moment to analyze this change in mood the two small words from Thranduil forced him to react without hesitation.

“Thorin stop.”

The grip on Thranduil’s arms and the anger in Thorin’s voice practically made Aldewin see red as he grabbed him startling him enough so he released Thranduil as he flung him halfway across the room slamming him against the wooden doorway his hand immediately seizing Thorin by his throat and while the dwarf struggled and tried to break his hold his weakened state made his attempts futile, annoying at best. He was about to land a blow to the dwarfs face but when the dwarf stilled it gave Aldewin pause but the words he spoke in asking forgiveness only angered Aldewin more.

“You have no right!” Aldewin screamed shoving the dwarf to the floor. “Do you not think for a moment about your actions?! Every moment he is away from you he is miserable, and for reasons I cannot understand he loves you! And you repay him with anger and mistrust!” He grabbed Thorin by his collar practically lifting him off the ground. “You are not worthy to even be in his presence or worthy of his love! How much has he suffered because of you? You mistrust me so much but I have _never_ hurt him…how many times have you?” He growled dropping him to the floor as if he was disgusted by even touching him.

 “Aldewin…” Thranduil began but wasn’t sure what to say to him, Thorin never meant to hurt him, there was much that Aldewin simply didn’t understand but making him comprehend seemed impossible.

Aldewin turned to Thranduil. “What shame did you suffer because of his carelessness?” Aldewin asked his voice hard as stone when he spoke.

Thranduil froze at the question as he simply shook his head ‘no’ he couldn’t answer him. “It wasn’t his fault…” Thranduil said his insides twisting from the memories of his assault, pain and helplessness seeming to wash over him making him tremble and the safety he always found when Aldewin was near, when Thorin was with him seemed to rush away all at once.

Thorin clenched his teeth when he was roughly dropped. He was too shocked and too much guilt-ridden to even register pain but what he did was the accusation and rage in Aldewin’s voice which brought back memories that Thorin could never forget. His innards twisted at Aldewin’s stinging words and immediately, he felt blood rising up to his head when he glared at the other and blurted out, “I never meant to!”

Aldewin’s glare was murderous, demanding instantly any reason why Thorin should be spared from being killed and truthfully, Thorin had none. He had no reason to be spared. He knew well enough how many times he had hurt the one whom he loved dearly. He saw how his obsession led to the cruel fate on one who was never meant to be harmed. But what really stabbed him deeply was the same which brought upon him immense shame and guilt of ever doubting that one person again and again.

Thranduil’s interference.

The sour taste in his mouth was definitely bile. He found himself so low in front of everyone’s eyes that he could not even face Thranduil who was defending him when Thorin knew how undeserving he was!

He was forced to look, however, when Thranduil earnestly tried pacifying Aldewin’s anger and he felt a cold chill covering him as he was forced to witness Thranduil relieving that which he had to forget.

Aldewin’s heart sunk at a revelation. Thranduil had a vacant look about his eyes A distant one which invoked fear, panic, distress— everything that the Elvenking took great care of concealing. The void feeling was soon replaced when rage crashed in, boiling his blood as he saw his friend and king trying very hard to suppress unwanted memories. His anger increased all the more when he realized how much the dwarf had a hand in it. Without any warning, he turned on his heels and punched Thorin hard in his face.

The dwarf fell due to his stupor, giving Aldewin enough opportunity to pounce on him and raise his hand readying himself to deliver another blow. Snarling, he brought down his fist heavily. By then Thorin had already broken out of his stupor, making him roll and dodge the attack, the momentum of which was so great that Aldewin almost lost his bearing when his fist collided with the hard wood floor.

He winced a little and turned swiftly before Thorin could have the chance of having him by surprise but his eyes widened when Thorin blocked his hand and twisted them, thereby rolling Aldewin altogether. Aldewin tried and began using Thorin’s weight and motion as his advantage but the dwarf saw it through and before Aldewin could even have a chance at it, Thorin dismantled his strategy with a solid punch to his stomach, making Aldewin cough harshly as he felt air leaving his body at a ferocious rate. With an uncanny reflex, Aldewin wrapped his legs around the dwarf and rolled him on the floor till he was the one on top but his victory was short lived when Thorin bent upwards all of a sudden and head-locked a surprised Aldewin, upturning him with some effort so that once more the elf found himself thrashing on the floor, desperately wanting to break free from the choking grip. He fumbled and struggled, his hand already reaching for a knife he always kept within the strap on his ankle.

He felt the tips of his fingers brushing against the cold metal handle. Thorin’s grip was powerful and it grew more in power with each passing moment, causing Aldewin’s heart to pound against his chest for dire need of air. A bit more...a bit more...

His eyes flew open as he managed to get a hold of his knife and out of pure instinct, he raised it high into the air and swiftly brought it down, never intending to stop till it pierced through the thick muscles and bones.

All of a sudden, a loud clank was heard as the knife was thrown on to the ground and before anyone knew what was going on, Aldewin felt the pressure lifting off from his chest and neck and his eyes landed upon Thorin who was just as bewildered and panting just as hard as he was dragged away.

Thranduil felt himself audibly gasp when the rage in Aldewin seemed to simply boil over and he was consumed by an unyielding need to protect him and defend him from the one person he had deemed responsible for it all. But he was wrong! Thorin was not the cause for his suffering if anything Thorin had tried to help him and that help had dire consequences for them both, but it wasn’t anyone’s fault!

 Thranduil wanted to intervene, but as their fight became more violent he found himself frozen watching in dismay as the two people who meant so much to him fought. He had rarely seen Aldewin so angry, even on the battlefield he was a clam calculating warrior, this was not battling though this was raw fury which made the situation all the more dangerous. Thorin was a force to be reckoned with as well, his size held very little disadvantage and one could be easily surprised at the strength he possessed, and the two were both learning a painful lesson about one another.

When Thorin managed to get Aldewin in a choke hold Thranduil immediately saw Aldewin reach for his weapon. Aldewin preferred hand to hand combat above other means but that by no stretch meant that he would not draw upon them in defence. Thranduil drew his own dagger and without thinking swung hard disarming Aldewin swiftly and pulling Thorin away from him.

“Stop! Both of you stop!” Thranduil screamed holding his blade so tight his knuckles were white. “Have we not enough enemies we turn on one another! Enough!” Thranduil calmed himself a little. “… _saes_ …”

It was a much needed intervention which immediately drawled a sense of silence between Thorin and Aldewin who were panting wildly and trying hard to calm themselves down. The air was still tense between them, their bodies as well reflecting the distrust and shock covered them. Suddenly, Aldewin startled when Thorin without any word dashed out of the cottage. He followed the dwarf’s movements, subconsciously preparing himself for an attack. When it never came, a relief washed over him instantly followed by a more bewildering realization that pained his heart sharply.

He settled his wide gaze over Thranduil. The elf was clutching his blade like dear life. He was heaving as well, his face losing all signs of composure and instead reflecting the raw distress and intensity as if he was afraid of Aldewin making any sudden moves which might endanger the dwarf.

He couldn’t help but suppress a gasp at that very trail of thought. Thranduil had just attacked him—even if it was in defence of another, Thranduil had raised his arm at Aldewin. He had _leapt_ as if his very life was threatened with such a ferocity that he had never expected to witness from someone who was suffering from trauma not just a moment ago. And for what? For a dwarf whom he loved so blindly? Whom he trusted so callously? Was his love for Thorin so strong that he chose to forgive whatever shame he had brought upon Thranduil? Or was Thorin only a stepping stone for whatever events that had scarred his friend?

He couldn’t explain why he felt his chest growing heavy. He couldn’t explain why he suddenly felt a loss of something very precious t him, why he felt like he had to _let go._

He closed his eyes and took many deep breaths till he felt his emotions subside. Thranduil’s body language relaxed as well along with Aldewin’s. He slowly picked himself up from the ground and considered his friend for a while. Thranduil was about to follow Thorin but Aldewin’s hand stopped him before Thranduil could evade questions that Aldewin long had in his mind. Thranduil stopped and tensed slightly. There was something behind his eyes. Something he desperately wanted to keep from bursting through but Aldewin had had enough.

“Explain.”

For a long while, Thorin simply stood, unable to move, unable to think. There was a lot on his mind, many thoughts and memories which strove to break free; many emotions conflicting in nature which waged war. He was shocked, he was ashamed, he was embarrassed and he was guilt-ridden—all of these bringing up a turbulence in his head.

Soon when the desperation and self-loathe ebbed away and his mind settled, grief flooded in which he managed to keep at bay for so long.

He felt his knees weaken and he unceremoniously dropped on the ground, palming and fisting the soft grass underneath as he grit his teeth. His eyes clenched, heaviness constricted his chest making him so uncomfortable that Thorin really had to struggle to let out pained and choked guttural sounds. The forcefulness slipped away soon, allowing his tears to fall freely and he wept. He wept for his sins; he wept for his love, for his nephew, his home, his fate. The noise ceased but the tears flowed relentlessly along with the violent quiver in his shoulders while Thorin hunched over the ground and clenched his fists.

Soon enough, the tears dried as well and Thorin simply sat, feeling a great weight sliding away from his chest. He felt a gentle hand upon his shoulder and he quickly turned, hoping for one face he sorely craved to see. He was more than astonished when he was joined by one he had least expected.

* * *

 

Aldewin regarded Thranduil seriously, he was still a little shocked that his King had actually raised his weapon against him in defense of another, but it proved as a testament for the strong feelings Thranduil held for the dwarf and whether or not Aldewin approved was irrelevant. He could easily see that Thranduil seemed just as surprised as he was that he actually was prepared to attack his lifelong friend to protect Thorin, struck out at Aldewin with his dagger. When Thranduil saw Aldewin reach for his weapon he could think of only one thing at that was protecting Thorin and although he felt terrible for attacking Aldewin he didn’t regret it. His mind was blank for a good few moments but then his friend’s voice broke through his thoughts he came back to reality.

“Explain.”

It was a simple enough request but he didn’t know where to start, how was he to explain everything that had happened?

“You want a play by play explanation of what happened, what I endured in Erebor to save Mirkwood…it doesn’t really matter that I was attacked and raped three times, that I was thrown down a flight of stairs and while unconscious Thorin was betrayed by his kin and had his kingdom and practically his life taken away from him because of me…those damned dwarves saw it fit to violate me and make Thorin watch and you know what was going through my mind all the while? I didn’t care that they were on top of me, inside  me, all I cared about was him, how was I going to get him out how was I going to restore him…that’s all I cared about then and all I care about now.” Thranduil said.

Aldewin swallowed thickly, he had suspected that unspeakable things had happened to Thranduil considering that he refused and evaded his questions so easily before, it was somewhat of a relief that he finally confided in him, but it wasn’t for him…everything Thranduil had been doing for the past few days has been for Thorin.

“If that is your wish then I will help you bring it to completion,” Aldewin said and followed Thorin outside.

 

* * *

 

Aldewin withdrew his hand as soon as Thorin turned to look at him, he seemed surprised but it was only natural that Thorin would be expecting Thranduil and not him considering they just moments ago were ready to kill one another. He shook off the death glare Thorin shot at him.

“I’m not here to apologize for my actions, I’m here for Thranduil. His mind, his… _heart_ is consumed by you and he wants to help you and thus his wish becomes mine as well. Let us help you reclaim what has been lost, reclaim yourself because as you are now. You are not worthy of Thranduil…he is more valuable than all the riches Erebor holds and he deserves you to revere him as such,” Aldewin said strongly.

It took Thorin a good while to let the sting in his heart ease which was rendered by sharp words coming from Aldewin. It hurt him, jabbed him and poked his raw wound of shame and guilt of the distant and near past. But he did nothing o counter it. He listened.

“You speak that which I already know. He is far more precious to me than any amount of gems or jewels,” he replied.

And when Aldewin finally extended him a helping hand, Thorin couldn’t help but let the flutter of gratitude sweep him over. He nodded once in respect and finally accepted the help he was provided over and over again.

There was a sincere glint in his eyes. “And though I know that you will not trust me, but I give my word. He shall endure no more pain because of me. I will see to that.”

When Aldewin’s features softened comparatively, Thorin felt a great weight shift from his heart. He felt composed and relieved and once he did, his bearing lost all sorts of restlessness, replaced quickly by a strong and regal attitude that spoke of the king he truly was.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: If only...
> 
> AN: The penultimate chapter guys! Here it is where it all boils down to~   
> We are so stoked to have received the wonderful response and constant support from you guys! A huge thank you to every one of you!

Kili found no peace. He had assumed the throne when his brother was rendered incapable and had discarded any sort of mental ease whenever he was reminded of his _generous_ contribution to Fili’s condition.

Over the days, Fili became more and more frail and despite his strict instructions that Fili be taken well care of, he knew that Harrak and Dimo did their best to have Fili be on the path to a slow recovery but never truly reach the desired destination.

It was necessary, they said. That Fili was dangerous to their noble cause which now seemed to be losing its lustre. Fili was erratic, he would ruin the peace which Erebor craved and he would bring ruination upon all by involving Thorin’s cousin.

The logic was solid. Kili’s acceptance was not. He had seen how his brother had turned so abruptly, he had seen how cunningly he had helped Thorin and Thranduil escape. He had seen how dangerous he was. But then, Kili had also witnessed the shocked look on Fili’s face when he plunged that sword in his own brother. He had seen blue eyes growing big, shouting betrayal, demanding answers, pleading Kili to side with him and it was a sight which remained deeply sown in his mind. That night, Fili’s face, the events— _everything_ — haunted Kili, infusing in his sweet dreams and swirling darkness in them and snatching Kili’s sleep.

He had lost count how many times he had gasped awake, only to find his heart pounding and body covered in cold sweat. He had lost count of how many sleepless nights he had paced throughout the halls, known and unknown guilt gnawing at him.

All for the sake of Erebor’s prosperity, he thought and smiled bitterly to the harsh reality surrounding him.

Their kingdom, their home perished. Even though they had practically stopped extending their aid to Mirkwood, the amount of food in their stock all but increased. Winter loomed near. Its chilling bite could now be felt in the air. Laketown had a rich trade with them—plenty of fabrics and art but only a little food—that which they could spare after having their own pantries stocked.

Subjects despaired; they wailed and wept for the good days to return. They had plenty of gems and riches but no food to trade them for. There was hunger, there was restlessness. Slowly, the jeer of not having a _mad_ king was beginning to die down. There were bitter whispers and desperate wishes of the old to return and the new to step aside. There was dissatisfaction and it would not take long for it to turn to a mass revolution.

Erebor perished and Kili knew that they would as well.

He was pulled away from his thoughts by someone who was standing in the doorway of the library and calling again and again for his attention. When Kili provided it to him, the dwarf became even more flustered and his lips moved frantically.

“What did you say?” Kili asked, not catching his words the first time around.

At that, the dwarf’s eyes grew wide with panic. He shuddered and said, “The Lord of the Iron Hills asks of your presence, my Prince.”

With that, Kili’s own face mimicked the expression of the other as his blood started turning colder in his veins. A large weight took space in his chest, constricting and clenching it with a humid and tense panic as he realized that their very nightmare had come true.

Word had reached Dain.

Dain walked the long walkway to the carven stone throne and was not surprised to see Kili sitting, the letter he had received from Thorin had prepared him for this. He could see the apprehensive state the young dwarf was in and with good reason, although as far as Kili knew Dain knew nothing of his betrayal he had sent word that he would be arriving soon to pay his respects to the new king of Erebor, but it was all a pretense he had no intention of paying respect to anyone but Thorin who had earned the right and privilege to be King the only true King of Erebor and he intended to make it so once more.

Dain had ordered troops to be deployed shortly after his departure, if needed he would force the issue of reclaiming the throne for his cousin, although he prayed it would not come to that.

 

* * *

 

 

Aldewin listened patiently to everything Thorin had to say, every bit of information of the mountain palace being exposed for both Thranduil and himself which was a little amazing in itself that he would be so willing to reveal such secrets but if they were to help they needed to know.

Thranduil was a little hesitant, it almost seemed as if Thorin was suggesting that they re-enter Erebor in which case Thranduil was not eager to do so again.

“Is that the only way? If we arrive too early and Dain had not sent his support yet, I doubt any type of leniency will be shown, and you know I will not be welcome making our entry a little more difficult,” Thranduil said.

Thorin looked up from the charts of the mountain which Aldewin had somehow acquired, Thranduil’s voice snatching his attention and fixing it all upon him. There was a notion in his tone which the elf tried very hard to hide but still, the little tremble had somehow managed to make itself be heard revealing the amount of apprehension and dread Thranduil tried his best concealing.

“Well we certainly cannot wait longer and give them more time to prepare. Did we not receive any response from my cousin?” He asked, feeling instantly guilty when Thranduil’s face came into view. The elf was indeed having a hard time maintaining his composure. His nostril was flaring as he tried breathing deeply to settle the fear growing inside of him. Thorin only mentally berated himself. Of course Thranduil would never want to go back. Why would he? Who would want to set foot in a place full of bad memories and haunting dreams?

Immediately, sympathy washed over Thorin. He forgot of the presence of another and took Thranduil’s hand in his own.

“You need not come. In fact, I prefer if you don’t. There is no reason for you to go back,” he said softly, giving Thranduil’s hand a light and assuring squeeze. “But _I_ must. This is the only way that comes to my mind. They will not expect us to be in their realm while Dain takes care of things up front. They will expect me to delay.”

He paused for a while, swallowing thickly as a familiar pain made his chest ache dully. “The whole of Erebor isn’t my enemy. Only _two_ are,” His words were mere whispers, the pain in him increasing all the more when he was reminded what he had to avenge “They killed Fili. They _murdered_ him. They hurt _you_. I can’t wait any longer.”

Thranduil felt a type of relief when Thorin took his hand which made him smile momentarily and he locked eyes with Thorin. “You can’t do this alone…and you are right that we cannot delay.” Thranduil said standing as he closed his eyes trying to calm his nerves, he knew as well as Thorin and Aldewin that they could all be killed re-entering the mountain which was actually the easy part; it was not getting caught later which was hard.

“Let us say Dain had already arrived, what do you plan then? I realize he is your cousin but will his support be enough for you to reclaim your position?” Aldewin said and he looked to Thranduil. “And you shouldn’t come my friend, for obvious reasons of course but more so from the fact your presence there triggered tension, you said so yourself we need not that type of attention.” He said gently so not to offend Thranduil.

Thorin broke his moment when Aldewin started to speak. He released Thranduil’s hand and faced him, a confident smirk on his lips as he had the right answer to Aldewin’s concern.

“He has a kingdom well established even before Erebor was rebuilt. He has resources, his military is well armed, modernized and excellent in tactic and combat. I’d say well-endowed than Erebor itself. Why else do you think my grandfather even in his madness kept away from Iron Hills?” He faced Thranduil again and spoke in such a manner as if he was the only one present in the tent, “You have helped me so much. I cannot ask more and need not ask more. It’d bring me great strength to know that you are safe.” He reached up, trying to touch Thranduil by his face, cupping it when Thranduil bent down to aid him, “I cannot put you in any more harm. Your friend is coming with me. You should stay. It is a request.”

Thranduil sighed shaking his head, he wanted to help Thorin but both Aldewin and Thorin were pushing for him to stay home where he would be safe, not to mention he had just returned it did not do well to leave so soon after just returning. Others would suspect something was amiss and they couldn’t afford for anything to go wrong in Erebor.

“Is there nothing I can do to help? Sitting idly by waiting for news of your success or failure will surly drive me mad…there must be something.” Thranduil pleaded.

Aldewin placed a reassuring hand on Thranduil’s shoulder. “For now it is our people who need you, I promise not to let this dwarf get himself killed.” He said with a smile somewhat amused with the unpleased expression on Thorin’s face. “Dawn will be breaking soon, we should rest and make haste in the morning…I bid you both goodnight.” He said walking off into one of the adjoining bedrooms allowing the two to be alone for a while.

Thranduil went to his knees next to Thorin and pulled him into a strong embrace. “You must promise to come back to me; I cannot bear the thought of losing you.” He said holding tightly onto the other.

Thorin settled against Thranduil, closing his eyes and allowing Thranduil’s thick rich woodland scent to take over his senses. It was maddening how just by his touch or smell or voice, Thranduil could bring Thorin enormous relief.

He returned the embrace, curling his fingers in Thranduil’s long mane and inhaled deeply. His then pulled slightly apart, cupping Thranduil’s cheeks with both of his hand while he gazed into his eyes. Then wordlessly, he leaned in and sealed their lips into a kiss—slow yet burning with unsaid declarations and unkempt longing.

“I promise,” he rasped, breaking apart long enough before pulling Thranduil in for another embrace. He didn’t want this to end. He wished for the night to stretch just a little further so that he could be with his love just a bit more. For come dawn, priorities would take over and who knew when they’d be seeing each other again...and _if_ as well. “Stay safe.”

 

* * *

 

 

Morning came earlier than Thorin had ever seen it to come despite him not gaining a wink of sleep the night before. There was too much on his mind and yet, he felt content just to lay beside his love, close to him and in his arms.

With the breaking of sunlight, Aldewin had come and informed him that they were ready. Gelmir had arrived along with some of the most lethal and swift soldiers Mirkwood had in its disposal. When the time to depart arrived, Thorin felt his heart grow heavy. They shared many kisses and many words of promises and reluctantly stopped when they could delay no more.

Finally, with another quick discussion on their plan and roles, Thorin had to bid Thranduil goodbye and start his journey. Slowly the day grew and the forest ended till they were again at the familiar outskirts. The more they advanced, the more Thorin felt himself growing focused. There was anticipation in his bones and fire in his heart which was slowly spreading all over, reflecting off from his eyes, burning with determination. Days would pass by and soon they would again be standing before the very walls Thorin had to leave twice. But he could do it. He had reclaimed it once and now, he had even more passionate reason to succeed.

He could do it.

They didn’t bother to stop when night ascended upon them, opting to walk the horses to keep them well rested enough if a hasty escape was needed. Aldewin watched over his soldiers and Thorin very closely, he hoped that their aid would not be to desperately needed and he could return to his King with good news…the valar knew he needed some type of relief.

“You don’t seem concerned…” Aldewin said softly his words low so not to alert anything that might be lurking in the darkness. “By morning I will send a few of the men to watch the exits if any try to escape…I failed to ask earlier what measure you wish to take against those individuals, are you wishing to detain or eliminate?” He asked his neutral mask well placed and pure seriousness in his voice.

Thorin didn’t turn towards Aldewin but he had heard him well. He could almost scoff with what the elf spoke. He was tremendously concerned and had never ceased to pray for their plan to go well. If it didn’t show on his face, then he was doing a brilliant job of feigning composure.

“Neither do you,” he replied, “But that doesn’t mean neither of us isn’t.” He sighed at what Aldewin asked next. Truly, he never thought of the disgracers’ fates. Up till that point, the only thing which burned in his mind was to avenge the wrongs which had been done and reclaim what was truly his home. What he’d do once he caught the main culprits was something he never put much thought into.

After what seemed like eternity, he finally answered truthfully, “I don’t know. I have only focused on executing the main part of the plan.”

Aldewin nodded signalling he understood, everything would go over easier if they were able to get inside and get Thorin to his cousin without anyone else being the wiser. While Aldewin was sure with all the turmoil Erebor was currently in, with a young and inexperienced dwarf on the throne who had just lost his uncle and brother, that the palace would be abuzz with activity and heavily guarded to keep any suspicions of betrayal to a minimum…not to mention whoever was responsible for the wicked rumors and schemes were more than likely trying to cover their tracks as quickly as possible, they would be the ones that needed to be dealt with immediately to avoid any further treachery.

Aldewin glanced at Thorin who seemed to be driven to take back what he had lost, an unseen force which drove him, the same tenacity was there once before on his quest to reclaim Erebor from the dragon but the foe he faced now was his own kin which made it that much more dangerous and Throin knew this and still proceeded on.

“Why are you doing this? Thranduil would have protected you even at the cost of his own life, yet you still are going on this mission which has less than half the expectation to succeed in victory…I wouldn’t be surprised if we both get ourselves killed, does you kingdom matter so much you are willing to break his heart?” Aldewin asked wanting to know his intentions were in everything.

Thorin’s reaction came as a simple yet tight clenching of his fists while he locked his jaws. His nostrils flared as if he was trying to hold back a flood of indistinguishable emotions and looked at Aldewin in such a manner as if Aldewin had uttered something preposterous and undignified.

“They took my home, shunned me, abused my love, _murdered_ my flesh and blood and you ask _why_? Fili deserved a grave! He wasn’t a wayward lad. He meant good! He deserved a grave at least.” His tone was low with a growl, his breathing hard and his frame shaking like a leaf at the expense of keeping himself from lashing out. “Tell me Captain, would you have done what you suggest had you been in my shoes?” His eyes never left Aldewin’s face, flashing with pride and hurt as he took the elf in and measured him in silence. When Aldewin sighed, Thorin did so too. “I thought not. Listen,” he continued in a much more understanding tone, “You truly are not obligated to come. I shall bear no ill will if you and your flank go back now. It is not your fight. It never was. But I _must_ see it to its end. So tell me, will you come with me or will you not?”

He spared no further words and rode ahead, all of a sudden wishing for his own old company who had responded to him with great trust and little questioning.

Aldewin dismounted his horse and urged it to ride away, if their mission failed or succeeded there was no need for his horse in either case nor did he want it to be a signal to the dwarves of their arrival. His company did the same; there was only five that came with them for there was not many more that could be sparred but if everything went accordingly there would be no need for any more than that. They were among the best and moth lethal of Aldewin’s guard and he knew they were fiercely loyal to him and their King so he trusted them as they left without a word.

  

* * *

 

Days had rolled into weeks. Their journey grew more perilous and more tiresome as they cut through the desolated belt of land upon which Anduin had forsaken her favour. There was nothing else that lay before them, only rolls of land—barren and arid—scattered with rocks shattered by the sun and wind for millions of years.

As they crossed the land, Thorin couldn’t help but feel a jolt running down his spine—one of old memories and adventures. He remembered well when he crossed the same path with people loyal to him and upon whom he had put in his dear life. His feet had touched the same soil as they were running for their dear lives with the plumes of smoke and Smaug’s fire behind them. His feet had felt the same grains as he once more marched towards the mountain with purpose in mind— the same which he had at the very moment. However back then, the enemy was something which deserved to be burnt in Mordor’s fire. This time, it was different. It was Thorin’s own kin. His people. How he would use his own hand to strike the son he never had was a thought which ate away his heart and mind and brought him anguish whenever Kili’s young bright face plopped up in his mind from back when he was a child and knew nothing except that his Uncle would keep him safe.

The more they approached Erebor, more sombre Thorin became. His demeanour was changing to something of increasing seriousness and a quiet and dangerous strength as the fire in his eyes grew wilder as the gap between them and the Lonely Mountain lessened.

After a few more days of marching, they had finally come to a halt before the only mountain which towered over them from the ground.

At last, they had reached.

 “They are going to separate entrances to the palace, they will secure an escape route if needed and take care of things if anything happens to go wrong. A few others are going to locate you nephew and detain him, they will not harm him simply keep him in their custody until you decide what is to become of him. I will accompany you, make sure you reach your cousin…when you do, where shall we go from there?” Aldewin asked he knew what to do up until that point and was unsure what was to happen after that.

Thorin’s mind was half focused on the discussion Aldewin was having with him. His hands itched for his sword and his blade craved blood. The thing with elves, he deduced, by then was that they believed that they had all the time in the world. Thorin didn’t. He was already perked up, eyes scanning the escape route and focusing on the two heavily armed guards as Aldewin’s voice now fell to murmurs in his ears, dominated by the wild beat of his heart.

His hand slowly curled on to the hilt of his blade.

“First we get in!” He hissed and before even thinking of providing a warning, Thorin sprinted on his feet and leapt in front of the bewildered guards, taking advantage of their shock and driving his sword in their chest.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Aldewin running towards him with a venomous glare but Thorin gave him no further chance to strategise. He nodded at two elves who immediately took up their position of securing their primary source of exit while the others quickly fell into place. The entire operation went smoothly and silently. As planned, Thorin then slipped inside the very lairs of evil with Aldewin just a few steps behind him.

His heart hammered in his chest as they made way through the deep tunnels. All about them, there was a pitch black veil of darkness and despite their impaired visibility, Thorin and Aldewin didn’t gamble with their luck by lighting a flame. While Aldewin depended on his sharper vision, Thorin depended on his keen auditory sense and the very knowledge of Erebor’s architecture. They felt the walls and walked ahead in a haste pace.

Suddenly after what felt like hours of travelling, a small jet of light was seen streaming through a single point up a few steps. That very sight was enough for Thorin’s heart to skip a beat as anxiety flooded him. He could see the entrance to the palace, surprisingly unguarded. Instantly doubt flooded him. His mind started racing with countless of thoughts, deducing and stringing every possible form of traps and treachery which could and probably would await them. However all those feelings drowned and faded as his blood began boiling in his veins. His heart felt flames of passion burning bright and wild, taking over his doubts and apprehensions, fanning his very need to right the wrongs to such an extent that all he could feel was the deep urge of feeling the disgracers’ blood trickling down between his fingers.

He made a motion to Aldewin and quickly made way towards the source of light. When the exit came closer, Thorin’s eyes widened all of a sudden and he immediately slammed himself against the very edge of the tunnel and the inside of the palace, grabbing Aldewin by his long hair and pushing him against the wall. Before the elf could utter any sound, Thorin’s sharp look and his keen senses quietened him as well and they both pressed their ears against the wall when sound of heavy steps entered their ears.

It was consistent, almost belonging to someone pacing about. When the sound came nearer, along with the dwarf making it, Thorin felt his lungs tightening automatically along with his chest as he held his breath, as if just by exhaling their presence would be made known. His grip on his weapon became tighter and the more the dwarf came closer, more tensed his whole frame became ready to attack in the blink of an eye should need arise. 

Dain trudged down the winding corridors of the palace, he had just come back from a secret visit to Fili, he had been told the young lad had died but apparently they were keeping him alive…barely, if he didn’t receive extensive medical treatment soon he wouldn’t survive much longer. However Fili seemed to have no concern about his own health and Fili was forthcoming on everything that had happened in the last year and all those responsible for Erebor’s downward spiral. Much had happened and it was terrible that few dwarves seemed to be the root of it all and he had every intention of making sure those two never again saw the light of day, otherwise the last thing they would see would be his hammer connecting with their skull.

He was still intent on helping Fili though so he was making his way back with the intention of going to the medical ward to get him some of the medicine he desperately needed, hopefully the lad could hang on long enough for these issues to be dealt with. But before that thought could be carried out he was grabbed from behind and dragged into a vacant room. Dain instantly reached for his own weapon drawing it swiftly against his attacker as the two blades made contact with a loud _clang_ and he faced his opponent although upon the two recognizing each other their weapons were lowered.

“Thorin!” Dain exclaimed his cousin being the last one he expected to see. “It does me well to see you are still alive and well…” He said sparing a glance at the elf that was with him but deciding not to question it for the moment, he wouldn’t be with Thorin if he was unwelcomed. “Thank Mahal you are here, Erebor is practically in chaos and regardless of everything you are the true king and can restore the order!” Dain announced, truly believing that Erebor would respond to one who was the true king especially considering the disorder that ensued with Fili’s and Kili’s ruling. Not to mention with the Lord of the Iron Hills backing his kin fully they would listen and conform.

The amount of respite which washed over him was indescribable as Thorin breathed and panted, suddenly feeling the weight of his weapon and emotions upon him. He didn’t miss the sideways glace which Dain threw at Aldewin but Thorin was once more glad that his cousin chose not to bring up that topic which would need precious time to explain.

“He is Thranduil’s captain,” Thorin answered, hoping those few words would suffice. Dain trusted his instincts and directed his entire focus on Thorin at which the latter was immensely relieved, though his relief was only short lived before matters at hand making him to frown.

“You have received Thranduil’s message,” he began, “And you know well enough what goes on around here. Dain, for this to end, I need to uproot the sickening weeds which started this. I need to find two of my former advisors. Harrak and Dimo. I take them out, Erebor’s false strength will dissipate and things will fall into place.”

He shot one look at Aldewin who too had his brows furrowed and nodded in approval. Thorin once again looked towards his cousin and said, “I must find them and I must penetrate the security inside the palace. I need you to hold down the majority of the army as best you can and buy me some time where I can finish this.”

He narrowed his eyes and glanced up at the elf once more. There was an odd pressure in his chest—one which he refrained from letting it to clamber up to the surface. His hands shook a little, his chest now throbbing with conflicting political and familial bonds. Now that he was so close, he couldn’t deny what he knew and dreaded of becoming an inevitable part of his mission.

He’d have to face Kili.

His thoughts were broke by Aldewin’s clear voice who was urging him to move on. With one last meaningful look thrown at his cousin, Thorin patted Dain once on his shoulder and turned on his heels, making way further inwards where he knew he would find at least one of the three main conspirators.

Aldewin followed Thorin through the winding narrow corridors of the mountain palace, he felt somewhat out of place so he allowed Thorin to lead the way and set the pace, they were moving quickly and Thorin seemed driven with a unyielding purpose he was defiantly determined to take back what had been stolen from him.

 

* * *

 

Thranduil had met with Gelmir halfway back to the palace and had escorted the king the rest o the way and Thranduil returned to his duties. Thranduil through by throwing himself into his work would distract himself enough so he wouldn’t think of his friend and lover risking their lives….but he couldn’t seem to shake it from his thoughts no matter how hard  tried. Thranduil was distracted and was not nearly as efficient as he usually was. Gelmir was the only one who understood why the King kept losing his focus so easily and why he was almost obviously worrisome.

He felt Gelmir place a comforting hand on his shoulder as he looked at him seemingly concerned. “I’m sorry…I have no way of knowing what has happened and I still feel as if I should be with them, I should be helping them not sitting here going over ration supplies and inventory.” Thranduil said shaking his head.

Gelmir bit his lips and frowned lightly. His king needed his opinion but unlike his sharp tongue for which Gelmir was famous, Thranduil needed to hear something which would soothe him as well as make him see the reality.

Leaving it all onto Thranduil’s wisdom and Elbereth’s grace, he started, “If I be so bold as to say, my King,” he paused just as Thranduil’s face became solemn and focused. “If I be so bold as to say,” he went on, “you would only hinder them in their quest. That place has nothing but horror and bad memories, my King. It is better you forget them as best as you can. We wouldn’t want you to...” Gelmir looked away, somehow unable to bring himself to speak of the fate which awaited every elf who had faced such trauma. To him, Thranduil was as solid as a rock; a pillar, unmovable by any amount of sheer force. To him, to each and every elf in Mirkwood and perhaps beyond, Thranduil resembled strength and resilience. He would be there, he would remain. To even think of such an eternal being of fading in grief...

Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed Thraduil frowning thoughtfully as if he was able to read every single thought swimming in Gelmir’s mind.

“Besides,” he spoke again when his silence became awkward enough for Thranduil to question him, “Your subjects need you. We are still on the edge of starvation and as Erebor has completely ceased in rendering aid and since Dale could spare so much, we need someone wise and resourceful to manage and help us survive till we can think of other means.”

Dimo scampered through the corridors, sharply taking any turns he could find while trying his best to avoid any gaze and any being on the way. His breath was puffed from striding at a rate beyond that which his legs would allow him but it was heavy and strained from the utter panic which started expanding its nest deep within his chest.

Dain Ironfoot had been asking questions about Thorin and his elder nephew and even though Dimo was tactful enough to keep Dain’s suspicion at bay, he was still unable to keep Thorin’s cousin from breeding any from the start. He himself had great concern of Dain’s presence. He knew well enough that the lord of the Iron Hills had a whiff of something which prompted himself to come to Erebor and by the looks of things, Dimo had a little doubt that Dain had come alone.

They had come too far in their mission to have it snatched away by Dain’s prying eyes. There was still time. They had to think of a way to save their kingdoms and their necks.

Seeing the familiar shape of Harrak’s shadow at a chamber before him, Dimo felt his heart skipping a beat with a short-lasting relief as he struggled to cover the last bit of distance at an uncanny pace.

Harrak walked up to Dimo just as quickly, they had made preparations to leave but with Dain’s arrival so suddenly thy both thought it would look to suspicious to be hasty in their departure so they thought to wait  little longer and leave with some type of plausible excuse but now it seemed they could wait no longer.

Dimo looked at Harrak. “I believe we will need some insurance in our escape and Fili will be that insurance, Kili is still overcome with guilt about his brother and is too ashamed to even see him right now and he is far too weak to put up ay resistance. Whether or not Kili admits it he still cares a great deal for his brother otherwise he would have let him die, we can use him to keep ourselves safe…Dain Ironfoot is a good leader. He will make sure Erebor survives I’m I’m sure of it.” Dimo said. He didn’t wish to leave his homeland but it simply wasn’t safe for him or Harrak to stay and if their exile meant the salvation of their kin so be it.

Harrak nodded slowly. Although he was not pleased in the slightest how things had turned out. Leaving Erebor was not part of the initial plan but when the choices were live or die, there was no choice. “I can keep Kili occupied while you take care of getting Fili, I’ll meet you in an hour have everything ready for me.” Harrak said as the two went their separate ways.

 

 

* * *

 

Aldewin was following Thorin when faint footsteps caught his attention going in the same direction that they had just seen Dain. “Thorin.” He whispered so not to alert anyone. “What is down that corridor? What reason would someone be there?” It didn’t seem to be well travelled and it was utterly silent until that point which concerned him. “I think I should go and see…” Aldewin said a little voice nagging at him to check the suspicious sound which he was sure Thorin didn’t hear, but it was still there nonetheless.

He looked at Thorin. “It’s better if we split up anyway, I know what I’m doing…take back your throne.” He said slipping into the shadows silently as the night.

Thorin had nearly stabbed Aldewin out of reflex when the elf whispered very near to his ears. He did all he could not to give off any startled sound which would immediately have the whole of Erebor breathing down upon their necks.

He took a quick glance at the direction Aldewin was pointing and said frowning, “It leads to where they keep spare sheets and things like that.” Confusion swept him immediately when he saw how tensed and focused Aldewin was, and as the elf kept looking at the corridor, Thorin grew extremely alert.

“Have you heard anything?” He asked, trying his best to ignore the chill of excitement and anxiety running down his legs. He wasn’t met with an answer but what Aldewin spoke in return Thorin’s heightened every sense.

Instantly, his mind started churning every plot and possibility of their success to what Aldewin suggested. Harrak and Dimo would unlikely split up. However, Kili would not be found with them. At least not yet. There was a good chance at surprising the advisors before they could reach his nephew.

Revelling in the new idea, Thorin nodded at the other, signalling him to take the corridor which Aldewin had mentioned while he himself started making his way down the opposite end—towards a more darker and grimmer part of the passage. With each taken step, his heart grew heavier, tighter burdened as conflicting feelings settled within him. He knew that the time was drawing near when he could not avoid from facing Kili. He had no intention of hurting the young one, but with a grave pang in his chest, he wondered whether Kili could see reason or whether it had already been too late.

Fili felt his head suddenly growing lighter and heavier at the same time, as did his body. It was as if he was lifted in air and was made to float for a while before a current started sweeping him away.

He groaned in his state of semi-consciousness, trying to remember if he had been adrift in a stream or had been near any kind of water body at al. The last he remembered was the feel of something hard but bearable underneath him, wrinkling and making a distinct sound of fabric being ruffled whenever he tried to move. He remembered ghostly figures and echoes of voices, indistinct but familiar, as the words sounded extremely muted as if coming out from behind a thick veil. However, he remembered nothing else.

He gasped when the current became rougher, undulating him and causing the left side of his chest to tug sharply. He tried opening his eyes but groaned in frustration when every time, the very action made him feel something heavy resting on his lids, making it impossible to see what was happening around him. There were noises, still thick and distant, and he thought he had heard indistinguishable voices. He could not make out what was being said but by the feel of it, something had happened for the voices sounded urgent.

He tried moving but his arms felt heavy and almost paralyzed. He tried to move his legs but they would not give as well. Suddenly, a great fear took hold of him. Fili tried moving again and again he felt restrained, helplessly sweeping against that same current which was jerking him violently. He tried to open his eyes, tried to call out but even though he felt like straining his voice, he had a little doubt if he could part his lethargic lips, not to mention whether any noise came from him.

All of a sudden, the current stopped. The noises were back, voices still muted but even then Fili could make out the rise in their level. Whoever they were must have seen or faced something which caused them to be in frenzy. He gasped yet again when all of a sudden, he felt like crashing down at an uncontrollable speed before colliding roughly against something hard. His hands and brows twitched as the rough drop brought back the tug in his chest. But that was not all! He heard another sound—another voice, raised so much that it had managed to pierce the thick curtains covering Fili. It bore panic and fear but what shone through them was an undoubted feel of anger as furious words were spoken. The previous voices spoke back too but the context was beyond Fili’s state to grasp.  Fili’s confusion broke away and fear rushed in immediately at what he heard next.

Even through the heavy veils, he could recognise the sounds clearly. The sharp, swift and short noise bearing such a cold tang could only come from one source.

Swords unsheathing.

His heart clenched with fear. He tried to move his body, he tried to speak up but when he was met with failure once more, he felt himself growing more and more afraid and that much more desperate.

He now realized to whom one of the vices belonged to. The words were unclear but the tone was very distinct and not at all familiar.

Desperately, he tried shaking himself, in hopes of losing the strange lethargy that covered him. He did his best lifting his arm or leg or any part of himself but a frightening coldness kept him from doing so. He tried to scream and shout out but something evil ate up his voice.

His heart started pounding. Fear filled his veins and chilled his blood. He realized where he was. There was no current. There was no stream. He was still inside the Lonely Mountain. And now, amidst what sounded like the beginning of a deadly fight.

But no sooner did he feel himself to be conscious, the tug at his chest nagged him greatly and once more Fili felt drifting into a state of blankness while his consciousness slipped away.

Aldewin made his way down the corridor, Thorin had said that it was basically a supplies closet, but his instincts were screaming at him to investigate it further. If it was only used for supplies then why was Dain Ironfoot down this way as well? Something important had to be here, or at least significant enough for Aldewin to make sure no lose ends were left unattended.

Aldewin was a little taken aback when he saw a dwarf with what seemed to be another dwarf hauled up over his shoulder, it was obvious the one being carried was injured and had not the strength to even resist the other, he looked gravely injured so much so that Aldewin was sure that he shouldn’t be moved not to mention what was he doing here? He watched silently a moment until he caught a glimpse of the injured one’s face.

 _Fili?_ Aldewin thought, shocked considering Thorin thought him to be dead the hands of the assailants that had attacked and assaulted Thranduil…this was one of them and Aldewin had no intention of keeping himself hidden away any longer as he stepping into full view the other stopping dead in his tracks.

Harrak stopped upon seeing an unknown elf standing in his way, it surprised him enough that any elf would be here in the first place that he was at a loss of words for a god few moments before growled low in his throat at the intrusion of his intentions. “I don’t know what you think you are doing in this mountain but I think it best you get out of way.” Harrak snarled.

“You put him down and face me now.” Aldewin said drawing his weapon his calm façade turning into something darker and angrier.

Harrak watched the elf closely as he began to lower Fili to the ground, he knew he couldn’t fight this elf successfully but he placed on hand on the hilt of his sword but without warning threw Fili in his direction forcing him off balance as he caught the young dwarf and Harrack ran in the opposite direction. Aldewin cursed under his breath as he put Fili down and gave chase to the coward.

 

 

* * *

 

Dimo quickly made down the passageway, brows furrowed as worry and alertness burdened heavily down upon him. He had allowed Harrak to go ahead and carry Fili to the pony which was already awaiting them at the outskirts of the palace. As much as they needed Fili to safely get away, Dimo knew that having the young dwarf as leverage could be either a boon for them or a terrible bane in the form of Dain’s wrath.

He skidded to a halt and quickly pressed himself against a wall just in time to avoid being seen by the owner of hurried steps who seemed to be storming up and down the length of the corridor. The steps were heavy—characteristically belonging to a dwarf—and at the very unlikelihood of it being his accomplice Dimo’s heart started throbbing as fear gripped it.

Ever so slowly, he started tracing his steps away from the direction he was intending to take and when he was confident enough to be out of the range of whoever it was in the corridor ahead, he turned on his heels and began to make way for another section of the passage way which wound and covered a longer distance before leading to a secret tunnel—one of many carved by their forefathers.

Suddenly, he halted at the feel of a cold tip on his spine. His breath flared, his ears heard nothing above the dreadful beating of his heart while his hand twitched, wanting to get a hold of the weapon resting on his waist. He soon threw the idea when he heard a deep voice—one he had never hoped to hear ever again.

“No further tricks,” said the voice that belonged to none other than Thorin Oakenshield himself. Like rising from the grave, Thorin had set foot again once more and would naturally not be merciful. The very thought sent chills down his legs and made Dimo gasp slightly when the tip of the blade pressed against his skin.

He raised his hands in the air in surrender and slowly turned to face the fallen king. Thorin’s eyes flickered like a freshly lit candle and his blade shone ominously at what little light there was as Dimo stood before him.

“What do you intend to do? Kill me?” He asked in a levelled tone, mocking Thorin and jesting him but not too much to provoke him. He slowly lowered his arm at which, Thorin grew alarmed and pointed his blade, warning Dimo. The other dwarf paused for a moment, showing that he was no threat to Thorin as he went on lowering his arms before resting them at his sides. Thorin still was far from convinced. His suspicious eyes followed every move and his body was taut with readiness to attack as he saw fit.

Dimo smirked. “Well even if you do, you will less likely regain back the favour of your kingdom. And to retrieve your throne, we are not the ones you have to face.”

His words had a grave impact on Thorin. For an instant Thorin’s stout gaze flickered before growing firm and more piercing once more.

“You are gravely mistaken if you think that to be my purpose,” responded Thorin grimly, “I have long forsaken the drive of my greed for that of the bonds I share.”

Dimo smiled only slightly at the remark. “Are you speaking of the abandoned bond of your kin? Or that of that elf which is less than a bond a more of an obsession…your decisions in helping Mirkwood was folly, you depleted our supplies and food sources to gain the favor of some haughty elfking who never gave you the time of day before he needed you, he used you and you failed to see it. Everything we did it was in the attempt to preserve Erebor.” Dimo shook his head at Thorin. “You would have leaded us all to ruin.”

As his harsh words were sinking in Dimo grabbed his dagger from his belt and lunged at Thorin without warning, he knew well enough that he probably wouldn’t survive but he didn’t care at the moment either. Dimo wasn’t the only obstacle Thorin faced and he would make Thorin fight for every inch he stepped into Erebor.

“Perhaps I started out with rotten wisdom, perhaps it was my obsession in the beginning which made me wrong him in so many ways but unlike you, I have had the dawning of realization before it was too late!” Thorin growled, cinders burning in his eyes as he clutched his weapon tightly, ready to hack Dimo’ head off if he ever spoke of Thranduil or his nephews. He knew well enough that Dimo was provoking him to gain an advantage but Thorin couldn’t hold back a reaction. “As for manipulation, at least he wasn’t the one who poisoned my nephews’ heads! He wasn’t the one who conspired against me! So don’t you ever dare of calling him a manipulator, you filth!”

All of a sudden, Dimo sprang to his feet and threw himself at Thorin, violently swinging his arms. Thorin barely missed the gleam of the blade as he too leapt back in defense, swinging away from the reach of the blade. At that, Dimo grew desperate and angrier. He relentlessly kept swinging his knife, barely giving Thorin any space or a chance to weild his sword and all Thorin could do was to depend on the swiftness of his reflexes as he ducked and dodged attack after attack. He hoped Dimo would tire out due to his inexperience in combat. However he was driven by rage and a desperation for his life and it didn’t seem like he would slow down any sooner.

“You should have stayed gone!” Dimo screamed as he tried to stab Thorin who repeatedly dodged the attack. “You and that elf slut were nothing but trouble from the beginning! A Dwarf prince not worthy to hold the title like his father and grandfather, you were never a King!” He yelled his attack furious and somewhat frantic although he was exhilarated when his blade caught Thorin on the arm.

The offhanded comment completely took Thorin off guard and he felt his eyes growing wide with shock, rage and hurt, making him falter in his steps for the briefest of moments. It was all that it took for Dimo to find a window of opportunity. He lashed out at the other and drove his blade towards Thorin’s chest. It was just in the nick of time that Thorin shrugged off his bewildered state and quickly turned his body away. The action prevented him from gaining any fatal injuries however he was not unscathed. The blade plunged deep into his arm, hot and maddening pain shooting out to every inch of his body. Still, Thorin managed to not yield under it. Even in agony, his mind was high on alert. Dimo had seemed o be basking in his victory. He was off his guard and taking that very opportunity, Thorin quickly lifted his other arm where he held his blade. His body twisted in the other direction in a lightning like pace, catching Dimo surprised at the very act and before he could even ready himself, Thorin drove his blade into Dimo’s chest, gritting his teeth as his anger and desire to avenge poured into his attack.

He breathed wildly pulling out his sword as Dimo’s face came to view. The other dwarf was ashen and wide eyed, still unable to comprehend what had happened. When he fully realized, chocking whimpers came out of his throat as he slowly lowered his gaze onto the red patch over his heart that was spreading throughout. His hands trembled, his steps faltered as he stumbled and receded from Thorin. He still clutched the dagger in his hand but his hold was growing weaker by the second. Soon, it fell from his hands which now became completely limp and without a word, Dimo fell never to rise again.

Thorin’s heart pounded wildly all the while he followed Dimo’s movements. When the dwarf fell for the final time, he straightened himself and kept staring at the lifeless form of his former advisor, his mind drawing up no thoughts and chest void of any emotion.

After what felt like ages, he finally stirred, being reminded of his priorities and hastily took off before he would be discovered. One was taken care of. He still had to find the other. He just hoped that he wouldn’t be the one having to face his most dreaded obstacle. His nephew. His blood.

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Nope...not ours.
> 
> AN: Hi everybody, first of all, I owe you a HUGE apology for delaying this update for so long. I wasn't well the last week or so and basically could do *nothing*! I am terribly sorry! But finally, this is up and this is the final chapter and we have tried to tie in everything here. Hope it works out!  
> Thanks a tonne for your wonderful reviews and we really feel happy with all the kudos and subscriptions this fic received! We appreciate each and every one of your comments and love them to bits.
> 
> Well, now without further ado...

Aldewin was making his way back the way he had came, his sword already stained with the blood of who he realized was Harrak, which gave Aldewin great satisfaction in the fact he was able to avenge Thranduil and make one of the people who had wronged him pay dearly for his crime.  There was only one other who needed to be dealt with according to Thorin. As for his nephews Thorin would have to deal with that on his own, and speaking of his nephews Fili was still alive and Aldewin wanted to make sure he stayed that way too.

He was glad to see that Fili seemed undisturbed and still laid where he had been left behind. Aldewin knelt next to him looking over his wounds which were bleeding through bandages and he looked deathly pale.

 _He won’t last much longer_ , Aldewin thought as he picked up the injured dwarf as gently as possible and made his way to one of the exits. Near the exit he was met by Allannia a strong elf maiden who spent years training to prove herself worthy of part of the royal guard, and one of Aldewin’s most trusted warriors, but she was also a very skilled healer and if anyone could save this dwarfs life he knew it would be her.

“Allannia,” he said setting Fili on the ground as she knelt next to him. “I know he is gravely injured but can you help him? We need him alive regardless of the cost.” Aldewin said sternly.

 Thorin had mentioned how Fili had helped him and Thranduil escape which in itself was a life debt that Thranduil and Thorin both owed him and if nothing else he didn’t deserve to die, if he also supported Thorin’s reclaim the it would be all the stronger for it in the end.

Allannia looked him over carefully. “I can keep him alive but to heal him completely he needs stronger elven medicine, I have not the supplies with me,” she said shaking her head slightly discouraged.

“Just keep him alive and keep him safe. It is imperative to this mission.” Aldewin said leaving Fili in the capable hands of Allannia and heading off the find Thorin to inform him of Fili and Harrak, as also to assist him in the rest of his quest.

Allannia carefully gathered up Fili and hastily made way to safer grounds. The condition of the young dwarf seemed grave and she had little hope of him being fully recovered. However, she wouldn’t go against the word of her captain and she vowed to do everything in her power to keep the dwarf alive till they were safely back in Mirkwood.

  

* * *

 

 

Thorin’s blood boiled all the while he navigated through the dark passageway, shrouded by a thick air of gloom the more he proceeded. He looked ahead, keen eyes searching for the other traitor as his hands itched and craved for his blood.

He came to an abrupt halt when he noticed something a few feet away ad squinted his eyes to get a better look in the dark. Further ahead where the passage showed glimpse of pillars hewn out of stone and fanned out to the unmistakable grand space of the back of the throne room, there stood a figure silent and grave, as if waiting for Thorin himself.

Pale light streamed from his back, casting a shadow to his face and features but as Thorin narrowed his eyes even more to get a good look, they grew wide immediately while his a deep shock shook his bearings.

Slowly, the figure started approaching him, drawing his sword, the sound of unsheathing biting into Thorin’s chest, wrenching it with conflict and guilt as Thorin stood his ground.

“I cannot let you pass,” came a cold response. It was what Thorin feared, it was what he desperately wanted to avoid. Now that the moment had come, he could no longer turn his back. He had to set things right, even if it meant him facing his once adored nephew.

“Kili,” he spoke, his features settling with a more focused demeanour. Although as ready as he seemed, Thorin was far from being prepared to wield his weapon against the younger prince. He inhaled deeply, clutched his sword but his chest ached and his hands trembled in agony and conflict the closer Kili approached.

“Hello again Uncle,” Kili said, his voice monotone as he looked at Thorin for a moment. His uncle never ceased to amaze him in his tenacity. He was the most wilful being he had ever met and nothing would sway him once he had made up his mind about something…that type of resolve was respected by Kili and he could never hope to be the same as him. He realized now that Thorin was the king Erebor needed but with everything that happened and the loss of his brother Kili wasn’t sure what the point in going on was.

“You never stop do you? You would crawl on your hands and knees through the fires of Mordor if it brought you closer to your goal wouldn’t you?” Kili said stepping down the steps of the throne which felt so wrong and unbecoming for him. He looked at Thorin a moment who seemed hesitant although his intention of coming to him was clear. “Will you not raise your weapon? Isn’t that why you are here, to avenge yourself?” He asked his voice sombre and low, regret clear in his voice when he spoke.

The more Kili’s words echoed throughout the ominous hall, more Thorin felt himself automatically steeling his resolve to see his mission through to the end. However, even though he tried telling himself that overthrowing Kili was necessary, harder he found to follow through his plan.

Kili was so close standing before him. Thorin could see the little glimmer in his eyes, dull and cold like his demeanour, completely opposite to what Thorin was used to seeing in the young prince who was usually full of such vigour and passion.

It was the crack in Kili’s voice which ultimately crumbled his resolve. The tone pierced through his chest and into his heart with its ice cold finger, probing deeper into a wound which was still fresh and bleeding whenever picked at, making him to want to writhe in an agonizing stretch of emotions.

He finally shook his head and found his voice which came out low and in whispers loud enough for Kili to hear, “Not just myself, no but also for a king who was shamed, for a nephew who was wronged and for a kin who was murdered.”

His hands trembled, his heart shook with conflicting feelings. He noticed a shift in Kili’s posture at the very mention of his fallen brother. It was what provided Thorin a glimmer of hope that perhaps Kili was still not lost; that he could yet be reached out to. “I shall oppose you Kili if you continue treading the path that brings no joy. But no.”

He smiled almost bitterly, when he finally came to terms and sorted out his feelings to a final conclusion. He could never hurt Kili. He could never lay a hand on him, much less a sword, and if it brought Thorin his own demise, then so be it.

He went on throwing down his weapon and shocking Kili massively, “Not at the cost of your blood. I have already had blood of one sister-son shed. I can’t bear to lose you as well.”

Kili felt himself choke a little, he had expected Thorin for be vengeful and to lay wrath upon him the likes of which would rival Smaug, but he didn’t. Instead he showed compassion and understanding, he showed him mercy.

“I do not deserve any show of leniency, you had never done anything but show me and Fili what it is to be true to ourselves and to honour our kin…and we repaid you with deception and lies. You are our king and I deserve your judgment, if I have any room for request lay that sentence down upon me now,” Kili said a burning need for some type of redemption for his actions, not knowing exactly how to feel. He wanted to throw himself into his uncles arms and cry for the loss of his brother which wrenched his heart so painfully, rejoice in the fact that he had returned and would take away this burden which was that as being a King, beg for his forgiveness in which he now realized how wrong he had been…he wanted everything to be as it once was, but he knew that was a dream to far away now so he simply wished to repent.

Thorin shook his head and instantly closed the remaining gap between the two. Kili’s reckoning moved him deeply, flooding him with warmth and a latent joy he had not felt fir a very long time. Kili had indeed saw the light and he stirred himself towards the right path as Thorin knew he would eventually. He found himself bearing no grudge against the young dwarf. He had long forgiven Kili and knew well enough whatever he had done was only because he was made to think that it would lead to good.

Thorin clapped him on his shoulders once and sighed.

“Your mind is young and impressionable,” he responded with an understanding tone, “You were concerned for our people and you were led to believe that this entire act would bear fruit for Erebor. I hope you realize now how dangerous it is to be steered by words only and not by your own sense.”

It pained him when Kili asked for his punishment but at the same time, he was proud. Kili was learning responsibility. He was showing strength in accepting his wrongs.

“Much has happened behind these walls. Your so called advisors tortured Thranduil and your brother—all for what? I realize that I initially was led by this unhealthy greed and obsession but I saw through it with help, none which you had at that moment, I realize. But Thranduil has forgiven me,” Thorin paused letting the weight of his words sink into Kili’s anguished state of mind and when it did, he looked up at his uncle with a gaze bearing no trace of the dark shadow which had covered him previously, “As do I.”

He felt a great weight shifting off his chest as was the case of his nephew who seemed much relieved. However, Thorin was not yet done. He was family but he was a king as well making him to say one more thing that was extremely vital to reshape Erebor.

“I shall reclaim my kingdom, Kili and my throne and we shall have our trades and alliances revised. But you must realize I cannot gamble with the safety of my people,” he said reluctantly, wishing more than ever for anyone to do the deed. But he had his duty. Kili became attentive at the sombre change in Thorin’s tone. He had probably realized as well the fate which awaited him and it made Thorin’s duty that much harder.

He sighed as if to steady himself and continued, “I cannot name you my heir but I won’t have you out of Erebor as well. You don’t deserve a punishment that extreme.”

Kili accepted it graciously.

“And I entrust upon you the task of honouring your brother with a proper memorial. He deserved it.”

Kili nodded his head quickly. If anyone was to honour his brother it should be him. Strangely enough he was relieved that he would never hold the throne. It was not for him and he knew that long before Thorin’s judgment and although he knew that he would not be named his heir he was still considered family and that was all that mattered to Kili. Before he could speak again he was surprised by a dark haired elf approaching them cautiously and he seemed to startle his uncle when he spoke which placed Kili on the offensive although he calmed himself quickly.

“You need not honour your brother’s death. Fili is alive. I found him in Harrak’s possession who has been dealt with,” Aldewin said looking at the relief that washed over the features of the two dwarves at the news. “He is being tended to by one of my guards, she is very skilled but he needs more extensive treatment and soon if he is to make a full recovery.” Aldewin said seeing that Thorin did not need to slay the blood of his kin. It would take time to establish his position as king securely in the council but with the backing of his nephews and Dain, things ought to become as they should be.

Aldewin’s relief though was not for Thorin, not for Fili, but for Thranduil. If Thorin had not been able to recover his throne, had not survived this fool’s quest there was no telling what would become of Thranduil, after sacrificing so much for the safety and love of Thorin…he needed him, they needed each other.

Thorin almost flinched when Aldewin’s presence took him completely by surprise. However it was the news he bore that stunned him into a bovine stupor as he struggled to keep his knees from buckling under the removal of a great pressure.

His lips trembled and an odd sensation covered his heart—one of relief, pain, joy and bewilderment—all warring with each other, trying to hold a position within Thorin. His lips quivered, his eyes flickered as a smile started creeping up to his lips.

Alive? Fili was alive? He couldn’t believe it! It was too miraculous to be true and yet there Aldewin was with no hint of falsity in his message! Thorin’s smile grew wider and wider, chest heaving with relief as he uttered countless of prayers to the gods above.

Kili’s eyes shone as well, glad that his brother was not lost as he was held to believe. He knew he still had to deal with the consequences of harming Fili but the fact that he was alive brought Kili half the redemption he craved for.

Suddenly, Thorin jerked awake. The full extent of Aldewin’s words rang in his ears and he slowly began realizing the implication of the entire message.

Their mission had been fulfilled. They had done what they came to do. There was no more evil in Erebor, his nephews were alive and Thorin was as well. His chest swelled up with great delight when before his eyes he saw the glowing face of one he longed to see. He could finally be together with Thranduil. He would return to him as promised. Their quest had finally come to its end.

“It’s over,” he rasped, joy and peace shining through his eyes. He finally dropped on the ground, wearied and sore. “It’s over.”

 

Fili opened his eyes, wincing when he felt a sharp pain on his chest. His eyes widened when immediately after, he felt a gentle hand upon his sternum, urging him to stop moving. Fili frowned, for it was no dwarf hand.

“Lay still,” a voice said. It was so calm and so clear—unlike anything Fili had ever heard before, prompting him to finally look up. His surprise doubled when his gaze fell upon an elf, prompting him to immediately take a good look at his surroundings. When instead of the squared ceilings of Erebor, he met grand and lavish Elven arches, a mix of dread and curiosity overtook him and he tried scampering to his feet.

The elf seemed utterly concerned and quickly hunched over Fili, forbidding him to move.

“Your wound has not begun healing,” she warned, concern flashing in her eyes which perplexed Fili to no end. He then looked down upon his chest only to look back up again at the other when he noticed the properly wrapped bandages. Had she been tending him? To answer his silent query, the elf clarified, “You have just come out from a coma. King Thranduil’s guards brought you here. I will not have you fall back into it again!”

Fili’s lips trembled. He simply couldn’t comprehend why a potential enemy would shelter him, let alone take care of him!

However, there was something else that flashed than mere civility from the she-elf’s face. Noticing the interest in Fili, she quickly averted her gaze with a bit of crimson tinge on her cheeks.

It was then that something dawned upon the young dwarf prince. His mouth fell open, his heart started filling itself with a queer warmth while his own cheeks flushed as well.

Could it be?

The she-elf—Allannia as Fili eventually would come to know—met his gaze once more, shyness covering her features. And when she smiled, Fili became all the more certain. His heart started to pound and he too couldn’t hold back a gentle smile of his own.

 

* * *

 

 

Thranduil could hardly keep himself from fidgeting as he awaited Thorin’s arrival, he was overjoyed that the quest had succeeded and none but those who deserved it met their demise. Aldewin had returned with his guards and an injured Fili informing him that Thorin would return to him in due time but matters in Erebor needed his attention to establish his position more firmly and secure it. Thankfully though with Dain still in Erebor, a few days more was all he needed and he could leave Erebor in his cousin’s capable hands for a little while so he could return to Thranduil…just as he promised.

Thranduil didn’t want to greet Thorin in the throne room; he knew he would not be able to prevent himself from embracing the dwarf once he saw him, keep himself from claiming his lips, and professing his love for him and is joy that he was unharmed…things such as that were best done in private so he asked once he arrived for him to be sent directly to Thranduil’s room, which he awaited with bated breath, minutes crawling by like years as he waited for his lover to fulfil his promise.

Their return was valiant, with all heads held high. Pride burned in Thorin but what lit him up was the desire to be reunited with his One, to hold him and kiss him and live in peace as they deserved.

When finally they had reached the palace gates, Thorin could no longer contain his excitement and only groaned in frustration when he was made to walk an apparently never ending distance further into the underground abode. His heart quickened as they delved towards the more interior and private parts of the palace and his ears burned as he understood exactly where he was taken to.

He held his breath when finally a guard directed him in front of a lavishly decorated wooden door and took his leave. Thorin breathed in and out a few times before gingerly placing his hands on the wood and giving it a gentle nudge. His mood lifted to ecstasy when ever so slowly, the lavish interior of the chamber came into view, spreading out to focus on the tall and smiling being at the centre of it.

“Thranduil, I kept my promise.” He smiled, startled when he was embraced by a desperate pair of arms all the while his face was showered with kisses.

Thranduil was more than pleased to see Thorin and to have him in his arms once more. He had intended to speak but he found his lips soon claimed by Thorin in a hot kiss blazing with passion. Thranduil allowed Thorin to dominate the kiss and relinquished himself into Thorin’s capable hands. He sighed in disapproval when Thorin broke their kiss although the need for air had become desperate Thranduil would have sooner suffocated than end it himself.

Thranduil pressed his forehead against Thorin’s.

“I’m so proud of you,” he spoke cupping his cheek affectionately. “Thank you for keeping your promise. I was beside myself with worry the entire time you were gone…if you had not returned to me I don’t know what I would have done without you.” Thranduil said kissing him gently this time.

Thorin pecked Thranduil once more on his cheeks before soaking up the sweet warmth which surrounded them. When their lips met again, Thorin gladly tipped his head and folded his lips over the other’s, sealing in his promise of a brighter future.

“But I _have_ returned,” he assured breaking the kiss and placing his hands on top of Thranduil’s, squeezing them affectionately. “And I intend to stay this time, if you should have me.”

“Of course, but what do you mean ‘stay’?” Thranduil asked searching his eyes. “For how long?” Thranduil knew he would have to return to Erebor at some point, and Thranduil was still uncomfortable with returning to the mountain himself. It was true Harrak and Dimo were no longer there and had paid for their assault but nevertheless it still was a little too much of a reminder, it would be some time before he felt safe enough to return…if his time was limited with Thorin then he would make the most of it now.

Thranduil pulled him into a warm embrace. “Are you tired my Dwarf King?” he said softly into Thorin’s ear letting his warm breath tickle the hairs on Thorin’s neck as he leaned in closer. Regardless of everything he would never grow tired of teasing Thorin no matter the circumstances.

“As long as it takes for Fili to regain his strength,” Thorin answered, smirking with a bit of coyness, “And for him to woo that guard of yours. He has been mooning over her for long, I hear.”

He sighed happily when Thranduil hugged him once more but then he felt it—the mischief in Thranduil’s voice and his touch when he murmured into his ears.

“Are you?” Thorin taunted back. He smirked openly this time taking in view of Thranduil’s indignant expresson.

“Considering your _ancient_ age, I should warn you. I don’t intend to hold back anything that I plan to do with you.” With that, he pushed Thranduil towards the bed and practically lunged at him, sealing their lips into a fervent kiss.

Thranduil moaned softly into the kiss which ended all too soon. “I have yet to stop you don’t I? You were quite inventive with me earlier and I enjoyed your games.” Thranduil said recalling Thorin’s intention to humiliate him by making him touch himself but it turned out to be rather pleasurable for Thranduil and he got more satisfaction from making the dwarf king squirm in need from watching the entire scene.

“However, I think the time for games have ended.” He said allowing his outer robe to slip of his shoulders as he reached for Thorin’s clothes. “May I disrobe you?” He asked wanting to expose this dwarf himself.

Thorin drew in his breath and followed the path of the robe as it gathered around Thranduil’s feet. His lips twitched and lust gleamed clearly in his eyes as he stretched his arms out, gesturing with a node for Thranduil to work his magic.

He let out a throaty growl and closed his eyes, his teeth gritting automatically as Thranduil came close—extremely close so much that Thorin could feel his breath on his skin and smell the sweetness radiating off from the elf. The very whiff of Thranduil’s scent tingled Thorin’s skin with heightened sensitivity. As Thranduil’s finger wrapped around the collar of his robe, lightly brushing along his neck region, playing it carelessly with the tips of his slender fingers, Thorin felt shivers running down his entire spine.

His heart beat quickened; his body felt flushed and warm and before he realized, his hands came up and dragged along Thranduil’s sides, pushing up his tunic before getting lost wandering all over the smooth skin. He gasped out involuntarily as the sudden chill of the air hit against his warm body as Thranduil slowly did away with his clothing. Thorin’s instincts took over and he pressed himself against the elf, his mouth eagerly tracing patterns along the side of his face, jaws, neck and chin.

Thranduil smiled as his hands trembled slightly in anticipation as he began to remove Thorin’s clothes, the soft gasp leaving his lovers lips was intoxicating as those hot lips bestowed kisses across his face making him mewl softly but refused to be distracted too much with his initial plan.

He slowly stripped away the cloth that covered his lover’s body, and with each new area of skin he would lean forward to kiss and lick the warm flesh, Thorin still tasted like hot spices and his skin was flushed and hot against his mouth. After paying ample attention to Thorin’s torso he moved lower, across his stomach and along his hips while slowly unlacing his breeches and removing them as well but instead of paying any attention to Thorin’s arousal which was already standing to attention, he ignored it for the moment. Instead Thranduil went lower and started his kissing and suckling at Thorin’s feet and at an agonizingly slow pace his way up Thorin’s legs, his tongue tracing the inner thighs and coming so close to Thorin’s erection. Thranduil was sure his dwarf could feel the brush of breath across his length but he intended to take his time and drive his lover crazy long before any satisfaction would be had.

“I’m sure you hate me for this, but after being left without you for so long and all the hell you put me through this past year I feel a little payback is well overdue.” Thranduil said allowing his nails to run down Thorin’s sides aggressively. “And I know you love this as much as you might hate it.” He added with a mischievous smirk.

Thorin groaned. With all his treacherous foreplay, Thranduil only managed to stimulate him at an agonizing rate, making the region between his legs throb more and more in need of attention. He was simmering inside, wanting to come to a burn but with each time, as he was tipping more and more towards his undeniable want of release, Thranduil stopped then and there, leaving Thorin in his wake of frustration.

His words only added to Thorin’s sweet pain.

“So you decide to take revenge for the long yet ne—“ He gasped feeling the sharp grating of nails against his skin, leaving a slow burning sensation along the way they trailed,“—necessary time you were left alone?”

He managed to rasp out, enjoying the little torment. He smirked noticing a satisfied glint in Thranduil’s eyes, which ignited a mischievous fire in his own heart while he carefully planted his fingers between Thranduil’s breeches, massaging the area in quiet and large circles. His smirk widened as Thranduil reacted to that, arching his back and thrusting his pelvis out of basic instinct.

“But you forget,” Thorin said in a low tone, whispering in Thranduil’s ears, suckling the delicate tip as he did, “In this matter, I am no novice either.”

In a sudden movement he tipped Thranduil all the way to his back, till the elf had no other option but to lie on his back with Thorin laying on top of him. Once he had Thranduil where he wanted, Thorin immediately started attacking Thranduil’s lips suckling them, teasing them with his tongue. Amd when Thranduil he gasped, he took the opportunity of entering the sweet warm cavity, clashing his tongue against Thranduil’s, caressing it slowly with all his love and want while his hands—still under Thranduil’s tunic—found their way to his chest and onto his nipples, pinching and teasing them as his kiss deepened.

Then, he shifted a little, the action making his already hard nether region twitch in anticipation as he slowly started pushing the only piece of clothing upon the other. He pushed it, deliberately pressing his palms as the fabric wrinkled and lifted, exposing more and more of Thranduil’s flesh. His lips quickly started pressing kisses, along the entire length of the tunic as it rode up. His tongue darted in and out of Thranduil’s navel, tracing its way up to his taut pink areas before his mouth wrapped over each one of them.

Thranduil audibly gasped as Thorin began to practically attack his body, his hands touching and grasping him, twisting his nipples almost painfully while alternatively sucking upon them until they were swollen and red. He could practically feel Thorin’s need as they embraced one another fervently and passionately, their hands exploring one another with abandon and mouths meeting with such ferocity their teeth met more than once.

Thranduil scoffed at the comment of novice. “A novice is exactly what you are my sweet dwarf, do not conjoin casually? Is that not exactly what you said to me those years ago?” He said giving Thorin a hard but playful shove which sent the dwarf backward on the soft furs upon the floor. Thranduil straddled Thorin’s waist so he was now on top. “I am well seasoned in matters of pleasure, you know this…” He said grasping Thorin’s erection slowly pumping the shaft.

“If you were speaking truthfully then, it would mean I was your one and only lover, sad to say that elves are rather promiscuous, had I known just how much I would love you… it would have only been you for all my long years.” Thranduil said kissing him a bit gentler than before. “I am glad however that it will only be you from this point on.”

Thranduil allowed his word’s to sink in for a moment before he quickly and without warning swallowed Thorin’s shaft in one fluid motion and at a speed easily described as not mortal.

Thorin’s face reflected his extreme bewilderment as in a flurry he found himself underneath Thranduil. Before he could even formulate a reply, his mouth which opened for that exact purpose let out a shuddering gasp when his member—hard and throbbing—was stroked at a pace which shamed even a snail. He writhed, desire burning inside of him but he would not let Thranduil gain the upper hand in this.

“You are the only one,” he replied amidst heavy pants and gasps, laying his hands against Thranduil’s hip as he attempted to press himself once more, enjoying what his contact did to the elf. “And I have had enough observations to know exactly how you play, my dear.”

He smirked and grasped Thranduil’s hips with one hand, stroking it extremely slowly with varied pressure while the fingers of his other hands circled his cheeks before coming over to his thighs. The caress became even slower as the circled now extended over to the sweet region of Thranduil’s inner thighs, always brushing against or very close to his groin but never truly involving it.

Thorin was a quick learner despite his inexperience, for everything Thranduil did to entice and pleasure Thorin he received equally in turn. Thranduil went down on Thorin to prevent him from continuing the sweet caresses that would push him to end this all too soon. Thranduil loved the feeling of Thorin fisting his hands in his hair, the occasional thrust of his hips which he allowed, he could care less at the moment what Thorin did, he would allow this dwarf anything he wanted at this point. The taste of Thorin’s length drove Thranduil to the brink of ecstasy and the soft moans from his lover only heightened that pleasure to its breaking point, and while Thranduil’s own need was left untouched and weeping with need he wanted to focus on Thorin’s pleasure for the moment and only Thor

Thranduil kept the pace quick, he would draw back a little and slow down only when Thorin’s breath seemed to hitch or when his back arched signalling he was close, he didn’t want him to finish like this he would much prefer to ride his lover to climax.

The heat of Thranduil’s mouth sent shivers down Thorin’s spine and when Thranduil granted him incredibly varied suctions, Thorin could feel his heart hammering against his chest and his mind blocking everything else leaving him to see a blinding array of stars.

He felt his back arching more and more to ridiculous curves, his eyes rolling back at his head as the climax building in him threatened to throw him over to oblivion. Then suddenly, as if sensing his dire need, Thranduil stopped making Thorin to growl and let the other know of his annoyance. However, he could tell well enough how desperately Thranduil’s own hard member sought attention. In a morbid delight, he kept brushing his hands almost near Thranduil’s member, even tweaking it once in a while as his fingers continued probing in and out of Thranduil’s entrance at a random rate. The moans which escaped Thranduil churned his heart with a storm of lust. If he thought he could only torment his lover, he was proven deadly wrong. Torturing Thranduil only enhanced Thorin’s arousal. His member throbbed with each thrust he felt from Thranduil, the ache spreading all over to his legs and chest along with the suctions which seemed to grow faster and more desperate.

Instincts took Thorin over. He started thrusting himself in and out of Thranduil’s mouth, matching the pace set by the other, as did his fingers which seemed to probe even deeper into Thranduil. His lover moaned and grinded and arched, unsettled and frustrated as the mil white sin now flushed with a tinge of pink and droplets of sweat. Thorin for his own part felt himself being torn apart with the wild desire which grew within him. He stretched his neck, closed his eyes, grasped Thranduil’s thighs, rocked his hips and tried everything that would bring him relief but the fire which was rapidly spreading throughout him could only b doused by only one way and no amount of tossing and wanting to turn would help Thorin in that regard.

Panting, his other hand desperately groped Thranduil’s member. The contact instantly sent shockwaves throughout him as the sheer hardness of it sent Thorin over the edge once more. He started stroking it, with patience for the briefest of moments before the brushes turned vigorous, wilder and hungry, as did his own thrusts.

Finally, Thorin let out a loud gasp as he at last felt the oncoming of great relief coming inside Thranduil’s mouth. It was a feeling like no other. The pain in his groin slowly receding, his spine curving to insane arcs as his mind began blanking out—

“No! No!”

-but then Thranduil stopped again and Thorin couldn’t suppress a scream amidst the heavy pants and shortness of breath, his hand smacking Thranduil’s rear cheek a little less gently as he vented.

Thranduil instantly winced when Thorin in a blind moment smacked him which forced Thranduil to pull away from him completely, although it was more out of surprise than any actual pain and it seemed that Thorin was equally surprised by his own actions. Thranduil wasn’t angry though, those blinding moments only meant he was doing a well enough job that his lover temporarily lost his senses and that was a compliment.

“Did I push your threshold a little too hard?” He said with a small smile, his jesting seemed to put Thorin at ease. Thorin sat up and gently touched Thranduil’s face and kissed his cheek lovingly making Thranduil lean into the gentle caress. “Its fine, takes a little more than that to hurt me…it just surprised me, that’s all.” Thranduil said reassuringly.

“I simply cannot allow you to finish unless you are inside me, I wanted us to reach our completion together…I do not believe that warrants punishment.” Thranduil said in chiding tone. He fisted one hand into Thorin’s hair giving it a hard tug. “While I am more inclined to receive you King under the mountain, you will be beneath me this time around.” Thranduil said as he began to slowly lower himself onto Thorin’s straining arousal.

Thranduil couldn’t prevent the shudder that rippled through his body as he penetrated himself on Thorin’s member. While no stranger to pleasure he had only allowed this a few times and one of those times was with Thorin, true he had been raped while in Erebor but that was the last thing on Thranduil’s mind. The pressure and resistance always surprised him, and he was forced to take the process slowly because of this which was not only maddening to Thorin but to Thranduil as well. Even once his lover was fully embedded inside him he had to hold still until his body adjusted to the intrusion, even if his body was screaming for him to move.

Thorin felt absolutely horrible when he realized what he did. He quickly sat up and kissed Thranduil, wanting him to understand that Thorin meant him no harm but when Thranduil made it clear that he was far from being angry, Thorin felt a great amount of relief and deepened his kiss in response to Thranduil’s reassurance.

Thranduil’s fingers were tangling in his mane and when without a caution, they clenched his hair Thorin smirked as ecstasy began to amplify within him once more.

“I knew you’d want to extract your revenge for our past encounters,” he said in a gruff tone, chuckling and gasping as he felt his shaft going deeper and deeper into Thranduil as the elf slowly pushed himself in. “But I never thought you’d have it in you to take it this far, you cruel elf!”

It was a feeling like no other. To delve deeper and yet have no real control over it was something that enticed Thorin to great lengths. He rocked his hips, easing his entrance wincing in pain and pleasure as the tug on his hair grew harder the further Thranduil slipped on to his member.

Finally, Thorin’s entire length was in Thranduil. They both took a moment to get adjusted, to feel and embrace the heat which radiated from each other at the intimate contact. Their breaths were swollen, skin laden with sweat before Thorin started thrusting himself.

His rate became faster, more demanding till he saw nothing but the image of Thranduil’s undulating body with his head thrown back in an attempt to keep himself grounded as arousal threatened to sweep him. It was a sight he had never seen before. Thranduil’s hair was splayed over his shoulders, mottled with sweat, his skin flushed, glowing with a primitive beauty, making Thorin throb once more but this time, the ache was sharp, uncontrollable as were his thrusts.

He felt himself reaching the sweet point once more; his mind was again starting to enter the state of blankness where he saw nothing, heard nothing and felt nothing but a pressure between his legs and warmth in his chest. His back started curving once more, his legs quivering as reality started slipping away from him. All of a sudden, Thorin threw his head back and screamed, as he at last emptied himself in Thranduil, his seeds sliding down onto his own body as his the pressure in his shaft started receding, replaced by a feeling of excessive delight.

Even when Thranduil felt his lover tense and his sweet cries of release filled that chamber Thranduil didn’t stop, continuing his pace as Thorin rode the waves of his orgasm. Thorin truly looked beautiful basking in the afterglow of his climax, as Thranduil strove to reach his own. Thranduil would have preferred them to complete together but seeing Thorin like this, seeing the look on his face as he released, was absolutely priceless and striking. Once Thorin’s breathing was under control he grasped Thranduil’s member a determination in his eyes to not leave the elf behind and he stroked him faster while Thranduil rode him and he soon spilled himself across his lover’s stomach and chest as he fell forward barely catching himself before he completely collapsed on the dwarf.

Thranduil smiled to himself as he gently lowered himself to rest fully on Thorin, his head on the dwarf’s chest as he listened to the deep thrumming of his heart and felt the heaving of his chest with each breath he took. Thranduil twirled his fingers in the small curls of hair that lay upon Thorin’s chest as he looked up at him idly.

“How long before you must return to Erebor?” Thranduil asked after his own breathing was under control.

“Tired of me already?” He teased, in turn earning a light smack on his chest.

Thorin looked up at the ceiling ponderously. The same thought had always been on his mind and even though he was not at all ready to be parted with the love he had finally attained he knew he had no other choice.

“As soon as Fili is completely healed,” he replied, stroking Thranduil’s hair. “Dain can’t be away from his own kingdom for too long. Erebor needs to have its foundation strengthened.”

He sighed, thinking against speaking of jotting down his inheritance. Now was not the time.

Sensing Thranduil’s concerned gaze, he smiled and peered into those expressive blue orbs. “Will you help me?”

Thranduil frowned not really understanding the question. He reluctantly pulled away from Thorin and stood on his somewhat shaky legs while Thorin followed suit. Thranduil walked into the adjoining bathroom wanting to wash himself before he cuddled into his bed with his lover.

“Help you with what?” Thranduil asked looking intently at Thorin.

Having cleaned himself and laying next to his lover, Thorin wrapped an arm around Thranduil and replied, pulling him close, “My nephews.” He paused knowing all too well that Thranduil sensed he wasn’t done yet. “After I’m...too old to rule. I’ll leave Erebor to Dain.” He stopped. Thranduil would understand his implication. He needed to elaborate no further.

“You will come with me to the Valinor,” Thranduil stated as he stared into his lovers eyes. Ultimately all elves eventually sailed to the undying lands, it was their final destination in life but now Thranduil’s life was intertwined with Thorin’s and he could never leave middle earth without him, so the only solution was that they leave together.

Thorin’s eyes sparkled at the very suggestion. He knew how sacred the Blessed Land was to the elves and also that not all had the privilege of ever seeing it. He smiled and conceded with a sweet kiss.

  

* * *

 

As years would come to pass, Fili would wed Allannia, with blessings from both the realms, strengthening their bonds even more. Exempted from becoming an heir would have no grudges in Fili’s mind, e had already come to terms with the judgement and saw it as a fair punishment.

Kili would never wed. Instead, he would devote his life to learning the art of healing from the two races. His good name would spread throughout Middle Earth and it is because of this that he would eventually come in contact with the ElvenKing’s son.

Old age would eventually take over Thorin. He would hand Erebor over to Dain who would rule for more glorious years.

And as promised, Thorin would sail along with Thranduil to the Blessed Land. He would live out the last of his days with his one true love till his existence became one with the soil of Valinor and memory forever imprinted in Thranduil’s heart, burning like an undying flame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for Realization- but wait! We have so many exciting projects lined up for you. Nerwen and i both are working on another fic curently and we are equally excited about those which are more in the idea-churning phase. So we will be back. Till then, take care!

**Author's Note:**

> Please review~  
> We highly value your feedback and constructive criticisms. :)


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